


Drifting Home

by Amethystina



Series: How to Domesticate the Elusive North American Biker [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: (no really), Alternate Universe - No Kaiju, And Chuck is an angry doctor, Angst, DOMESTIC FLUFF even, Emotional Trauma, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, It's awesome, M/M, Modern Setting, Past Suicide Attempt, Raleigh is an angry biker, Scars, Traffic Accidents, You can see the sparks fly from a mile away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 06:27:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4777001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethystina/pseuds/Amethystina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raleigh doesn't see anything wrong with a restless life on the road. He has too many ghosts chasing him to ever want to settle down, and he's not foolish enough to believe that he'll find a place where he belongs.</p><p>But when he ends up stranded in a picturesque small town, waiting for his bike to get fixed, his resolve begins to crumble. Mainly because of the bold, obnoxious doctor who won't put up with Raleigh's shit — but also shows him more kindness than he's known in years. Raleigh <em>tries</em> not to get attached, but he's clearly fighting a losing battle. </p><p>When the day comes, he's not sure if he will be able to leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drifting

**Author's Note:**

> [Morozovasraven](http://morozovasraven.tumblr.com/) sent me a prompt over at my Tumblr asking for Chuck as a biker and Raleigh as a small town doctor, and while that was a lovely idea, I've always wanted to give bad boy Raleigh a shot, so I suggested swapping them. And thus this fic was born. And I love it. You can see it as a role reversal, where Chuck is the more well-adjusted of the two (but still an asshole, naturally) and Raleigh needs about a billion hugs and someone to sternly tell him to stop being an idiot.
> 
> They're older than in the movie — since I'm not making Chuck a doctor at twenty-one — and most changes to their backstories and personalities will hopefully make sense as we go along. It was an absolute _joy_ to write this fic, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Also, yes: feel free to picture Raleigh looking kinda like Charlie Hunnam does in _Sons of Anarchy_. I haven't seen the show, but I can't deny that's the look I pictured in my head when I wrote him.
> 
> This was betaed by [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) and [surgicalstainless](http://archiveofourown.org/users/surgicalstainless), who both did amazing jobs and gave me piles of comments that had me flat out laughing. I love my betas <3
> 
> Artsy stuff is made by me, and you can find my writing Tumblr [HERE](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com)

 

* * *

 

Raleigh had never bothered to learn the name of the small town he was in. He had passed through enough times to know that the coffee at the local diner was some of the best he had ever had — which said something, considering the amount of coffee he'd had at various diners across the country. It was also a nice place if he ever wanted a day or two to breathe, free from the overhanging paranoia and restlessness that usually followed him everywhere he went. While the people weren't exactly friendly, they didn't try to toss him out either.

Some days, that was all he could ask for.

Most of the time, Raleigh was more interested in what road he was riding along rather than what towns he happened to pass through, navigating via his route rather than his stops. Putting names to places made them real and solid in a way that could be dangerous — it gave them meaning and loaded them with impressions and memories.

It meant he might find a reason to go back.

This particular town seemed uninteresting, apart from the amazing coffee. Quaint, almost, with its neat houses, trimmed yards, and picturesque main street. It was the kind of town that would no doubt be perfect for a silly postcard, and Raleigh fit in about as well as an axe murderer would.

Some of the townsfolk probably thought he was one.

Luckily enough, he usually never stayed longer than a day. Three days, tops. He had nothing that kept him there, and he knew that the townspeople would eventually grow wary of someone like him. He didn't want to stay longer than it took to pick up some supplies — maybe another change of clothes — and drink some of the amazing coffee. And it would have been that simple, if it hadn't been for the accident.

It wasn't even a particularly serious one.

It happened at the final crossing out of town, not far from the interstate, just when he was about to leave. The car coming from his left either didn't see him or wasn't able to hit the brakes on time. It was a small mercy that they were both driving slow enough that he managed to swerve, so the car clipped him rather than ploughed straight into him. Either way, it tipped his bike and he was thrown off none too gently. He was scraped and bruised, but nothing worth mentioning — he'd had a lot worse over the years.

Too bad the soccer mom driving the SUV didn't feel the same way.

She fussed and wrung her hands, and no amount of assurances seemed to calm her down. There was no need to make a big deal out of this. Raleigh had no intention of suing, and he told her so. It was her driving that had caused the accident, not his, but whatever damage had been done to her car and his bike seemed minimal under the circumstances.

She still wouldn't calm down.

It was only when Raleigh realized that she was genuinely concerned about his well-being that he reluctantly allowed her to call Larry to look at his bike — Raleigh figured Larry had to be the mechanic in town. She also insisted on driving Raleigh to the doctor and have him checked over, just in case.

Raleigh would much rather have left town like he planned, but it was difficult to argue that he was fine when she had clearly seen him wobble as he got to his feet. He hadn't been prepared to feel the sharp twinge in his right ankle, but if anything it was twisted rather than broken. He might also be feeling a similar throb in his wrist, but he did his best to ignore that.

Still, she insisted, and Raleigh could see some of her anxiety melt away as soon as he agreed.

It was one of the most awkward car rides in Raleigh's life, with him sitting up front while the woman's twin girls stared wide-eyed — and possibly terrified — at him from the backseat. If it was because their mom had just hit him with her car or because Raleigh looked every bit the rugged biker he actually was, well, it was difficult to tell.

But, to be fair: had he been six years old and in their position, he would probably have stared too.

Their mother talked almost nonstop until they reached the doctor's office, and she would probably have attempted to follow him inside if he hadn't assured her that he would manage fine on his own. It was one thing to accept her sincere apologies — and promises to pay for whatever repairs were needed to get his bike back into shape — but to have her follow him to get patched up as if he was one of her kids was where he drew the line.

He assured her that he knew where Larry's workshop was even though he didn't, simply because he didn't want her to offer to wait for him. The town was small enough that it shouldn't take him more than an hour or two to find the workshop, and he'd rather leave as quickly as he could. If he let her stick around she'd probably invite him to dinner too, just to soothe some of her own bad conscience. She was clearly uncomfortable in his presence — glancing nervously at his heavy boots, ripped jeans, and generally untidy appearance — but politeness made sure that she tried her best to help him.

It was admirable, if naïve, and left Raleigh feeling like a charity case. So he was rather happy to see her pull away from the curb, taking her staring twin daughters with her.

And that was the short version of how Raleigh found himself perched on the examination table in the bright, homey doctor's office in a small town he didn't know the name off, having been shown into the room by a slightly skittish-looking nurse. Raleigh couldn't exactly blame her — he didn't come off as very trustworthy on a good day, and even less so when he had been hit by a car. She had been noticeably relieved when she could leave him in order to find the doctor. There was obviously just the one.

Raleigh fought his urge to swing his legs back and forth while he waited.

His hands were scraped — he really should remember to wear gloves — but not too badly, and the aching wrist and ankle would probably heal in a couple of days. He was fine, really, but waited patiently, if only because he wouldn't be able to get to his bike yet anyway. Rushing a repair job was a bad idea, so a visit to the doctor seemed like a good way to pass his time.

If Raleigh had been in any other town than this one, he would probably have been a lot more paranoid about letting his bike — and consequentially the things stashed in his saddlebags — out of his sight, but he seriously doubted that stealing would ever occur to these people. They were of an entirely different species than Raleigh, who was used to getting by through odd jobs and hustling pool.

He didn't belittle them for their perfect, cookie-cutter lifestyles, but he wasn't foolish enough not to be aware of how vastly different their values and morals were either. Maybe he found them a tiny bit gullible and naïve, but he figured that he wasn't one to talk. They probably thought of him as a dangerous, seedy criminal.

And they weren't entirely wrong, were they?

Raleigh looked up when the door opened with a soft click, and he couldn't help blinking in surprise when the doctor stepped inside.

He looked nothing like Raleigh had imagined a small town doctor would.

The doctor was young, proud, and muscularly built, with short auburn hair and an expression that was either a scowl or bored exasperation. It was difficult to tell. His eyes were green if Raleigh wasn't mistaken, but he couldn't quite explain why he felt a need to take note of something like that.

"You look too young to be a doctor." It slipped out before the thought had even fully formed. But it was true. Despite the displeased frown, the doctor still looked younger than Raleigh — who wasn't all that old to begin with.

How long did it take to become a doctor? How early must this guy have started?

The doctor gave him a look that was part annoyance and part insult, with just a hint of resignation. Which meant that he had probably been told that exact same thing more than once before.

"And you look like an arsehole," the doc shot back without missing a beat.

Raleigh wasn't sure if he was more surprised by the Australian accent or the actual words.

"What?" he asked, weighting between affront and confusion, not really knowing which emotion to go for in this situation.

Were doctors even allowed to speak to their patients like that?

The doc rolled his eyes while walking up to stand in front of Raleigh, who remained where he was, sitting on the examination table. He was honestly too baffled to do anything else. Except discreetly glance towards the nametag the doc wore.

It said "C. Hansen."

"Do you want to keep exchanging pleasantries or get examined already?" Dr. Hansen drawled, his accent making the syllables roll in a not entirely unpleasant way, even if it was somewhat unfamiliar to Raleigh. He hadn't met a lot of Australians.

"Oh, so that was you being pleasant?" Raleigh couldn't keep the sarcastic tinge out of his voice.

"That was me being honest. It's not my fault if you're sensitive." The doc raised an eyebrow that was decidedly smug — condescending even. Raleigh knew he shouldn't let it get to him, but his hackles rose immediately.

"Aren't doctors supposed to be kind and caring?" he snapped, despite knowing that it was a relatively lame comeback. Raleigh felt momentarily disoriented, since he had expected to face some old, graying gentleman with a stern but kind gaze — not whatever this guy was.

"Do I look kind and caring to you?" Dr. Hansen snorted. And really, he didn't. "If you're stupid enough to get on a deathtrap like that, I don't expect you to be all that concerned about your own safety, so why should I be?"

"Because you're a _doctor_ ," Raleigh found himself saying, enunciating the last word as if he thought the doc would be too thick to understand it if he didn't. That certainly didn't earn him any brownie points, judging by the offended look on the guy's face.

"Do you want to get examined or not?" Dr. Hansen grit out through clenched teeth.

"Not really," Raleigh admitted, to which the doc scowled.

"Then why the fuck are you wasting my time?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Raleigh replied evenly, debating jumping down from the examination table and marching out of the room. The downside to that was that it would hurt his ankle, and he didn't want to give Dr. Hansen the satisfaction of seeing him in pain.

"You're a bloody wanker," Dr. Hansen sneered, hands shoved into the pockets of his white coat and broad shoulders stiff with tension. He didn't look angry exactly, but definitely displeased.

Raleigh could relate.

"And you're fucking rude." Raleigh made no attempt to hold back on his contempt. This was without any doubt the weirdest and most frustrating doctor's appointment he had ever had — and the doctors he normally visited weren't even licensed half of the time. "How are you even allowed to practice medicine with an attitude like that?"

"How are you even allowed out in public with an attitude like that?" Dr. Hansen threw back, clearly not one to be outdone when it came to insults. He was unbelievably infuriating and Raleigh congratulated himself on not having punched the guy in the face yet. The sneering condescension was really beginning to get on Raleigh's nerves.

"Are you always this charming?" Dr. Hansen asked mockingly.

"Only when I meet equally charming people," Raleigh responded with a matching amount of scorn.

This was going so well.

If Raleigh was honest, what surprised him the most was the fact that the doc hadn't backed down yet. They usually did. Not that Raleigh went out looking for trouble, but he never hesitated to face it head on when it found him.

He knew that his attitude wasn't the best — and that he looked pretty shady with his beard and uncut hair — so he was used to most people taking a step back when he started showing that he was getting agitated. He looked more dangerous and willing to hurt people than he might actually be in reality, but he had noticed that it was a good deterrent if nothing else. People usually took him seriously and thought twice before antagonizing him further.

Except this one, apparently.

If anything, the doc was stepping closer, meeting the challenge with brash, unyielding confidence and something that might, in a different light, be excitement. The doc clearly wasn't intimidated, or at the very least too stupid to recognize that maybe he should have been. Raleigh was willing to bet on the former, because despite his arrogance, Dr. Hansen held himself like someone who wasn't just trying to act tough, but could back it up more or less successfully as well.

Something was thickening in the air between them — a tension that seemed to crackle — and Raleigh wasn't sure whether to hold his breath or start swinging. It sent a subtle rush through his system, his skin tingling and senses on high alert. Anticipation was curling tighter inside his chest.

Raleigh was pretty sure that he could take on the doc. Those muscles and broad shoulders indicated a lot of strength, sure, but Raleigh knew how to fight dirty, and even injured he had more than one ace up his sleeve.

But just the sheer fact that he had started to consider whether or not he could overpower the doctor offering to look over his injuries made the majority of his anger subside. He didn't feel guilty — sometimes that was way beyond him — but he could acknowledge just how foolish he was being.

It was easy to get riled up when you lived the life Raleigh was living, drifting from one place to another without anything to anchor him. He had nothing to tie him down, but also no one to watch his back.

One got used to responding with violence, if only in self-defense.

"Are you leaving or not?" Dr. Hansen practically growled, his patience — whatever little he might have — obviously running thin.

Raleigh forced the muscles in his shoulders to uncoil, until he could lower them and appear a little more relaxed. It was difficult to tell if the doc noticed or not, but some of the tension in the room abated. Raleigh didn't say anything, because asking for help would show too much weakness, but his silence was obviously a good enough answer in this case.

Dr. Hansen didn't say anything either — at least nothing to indicate whether he was gloating or not — and instead asked, in very professional terms, where Raleigh was injured. The examination that followed was surprisingly painless. Raleigh could admit that he had expected Dr. Hansen to be rough with him, or at the very least a tiny bit careless to show his lingering indignation, but he wasn't. There was no gentleness to his movements either, but rather a genuine and professional efficiency.

His hands were warm against Raleigh's skin and his fingers surprisingly comforting as they wrapped around his ankle, despite their obvious strength. Raleigh remained silent except to answer the stray questions about whether this or that hurt. There wasn't anything he wanted to say and, to be honest, he found it much more interesting to observe the doc as he worked.

Which he probably should have realized wouldn't pass unnoticed. Or be entirely appreciated.

"Stop staring or I'll have to add more injuries to your diagnosis, mate." It was said in a slow, rolling drawl that sounded more exasperated than insulted. The doc didn't even bother to look up as he spoke, and Raleigh felt something akin to indignation flare in his chest. It was a weird feeling, especially since it was closer to childish displeasure at being ignored than any rightful anger.

Raleigh didn't usually want to be noticed, and least of all by asshole doctors.

Still, Raleigh took the opportunity to actually ask some of the questions he had, now that the silence had been broken.

"What's an Australian doctor doing in a small town in America?" He had to admit that he was incredibly curious, mostly because Dr. Hansen seemed so young. He had to be in his mid-twenties, give or take, and Raleigh couldn't quite picture a scenario where one would choose to live in a town like this one, unless you were born in it. Which this guy clearly wasn't.

"That's none of your business," the doc replied curtly.

"It's called small talk," Raleigh defended, obediently holding out his arm when Dr. Hansen motioned for him to do so. The doc was careful not to brush against any of the scrapes on Raleigh's hand, instead focusing on his wrist, inspecting the slight swelling that has started to appear.

"It's called being a fucking stickybeak."

Raleigh wasn't sure what that word meant, but he got the gist of it. Still, he couldn't help giving the doc a crooked smile. It earned him a stern glare, which was surprisingly entertaining when it came from a guy Raleigh knew had to be a couple of years younger than him.

"So why did you become a doctor? It doesn't exactly seem to be your calling, what with your anger issues and all that."

Raleigh could see the doc's jaw tighten and for a second — brief as if might be — Raleigh thought that he had pushed too far. That subject was obviously more sensitive than the heated insults they had thrown at each other the past couple of minutes. It actually _mattered_ to the doc.

Raleigh couldn't help debating whether to keep pushing or not, almost morbidly intrigued to find out why such a simple question could make an already hostile guy look so pissed off. But in the end it seemed like a bad idea to anger the person holding Raleigh's already injured wrist in his hands.

"Will you be quiet?" Dr. Hansen snapped before releasing Raleigh's arm and walking over to a cabinet. Whether he wanted to get away from Raleigh or actually retrieve something was difficult to tell. At least until he returned with what Raleigh supposed was meant to be used to clean his scrapes.

"No," Raleigh replied smugly, taking an almost childish pleasure in seeing the doc press his lips together into a thin line. As verbally aggressive as the man could be, he obviously wouldn't do any physical harm.

Well, _hopefully_.

The doc placed the cotton wipes and antiseptic on the small cart next to the examination table before pulling on a pair of gloves. The look he gave Raleigh was both annoyed and reprimanding. It seemed to be the doc's standard setting.

"You're a fucking nuisance." Dr. Hansen didn't ask for one Raleigh's hands this time and instead grabbed one without a word. If he had hoped for Raleigh to make a sound or wince at the sting of the antiseptic once he started cleaning the wounds, then he was definitely going to be left disappointed. "Your right wrist and ankle are sprained, so try not to use either too much. Reduce the swelling with ice and take some painkillers if it hurts too much."

Raleigh held back an amused snort and said nothing. He wasn't likely to do either of those things, but he had no intention of telling the doc that. Instead he turned his hand over so that the scrapes on his palms could be cleaned.

He hadn't even realized that his sleeve had ridden up — or that the doc had started with his left hand rather than his right — until there was a slight hesitation to the methodical and surprisingly soothing cleaning.

Dr. Hansen stopped a second later, his shoulders stiff with sudden tension. Raleigh fought his reflex to tug his hand back, knowing all too well what had caught Dr. Hansen's eyes.

The scar was somewhat faded, but unmistakable none the less — a thick, pale white line of raised scar tissue, rough and jagged against the soft, vulnerable skin on the inside of his wrist.

Raleigh met Dr. Hansen's gaze, holding it with a determination founded in both pride and defiance, _daring_ the doctor to say anything. To ask the questions that were no doubt churning inside his head.

It wasn't shame that burned inside Raleigh's chest — he told himself it wasn't — but he had to grit his teeth to keep himself from swallowing. Raleigh was pretty certain that had he been someone else, Dr. Hansen would have been professional enough not to pause at the scar. It had to be a fairly common sight for a doctor, depressing as that may be, but the combination of Raleigh's personality and appearance probably made him seem like someone who wouldn't have that kind of scar.

Raleigh could admit the truth in that — he felt nothing but regret when looking at the scar and had no intention of doing anything like it again — but he couldn't deny that at one point in his life it had seemed like a good solution. The only solution.

And he would carry the reminder of that with him for the rest of his life.

To his relief, Dr. Hansen didn't say a word. He merely returned to his task, looking at the scrapes he was cleaning rather than the scar still on such blatant display. There was a new kind of tension in the air, though — one that left Raleigh feeling uncomfortable, raw and exposed. He didn't like it, but knew better than to try and dispel it. He would only come off as insecure if he did, and he refused to show that kind of weakness.

The heavy silence remained, disturbed only by the soft tick of the clock on the wall and the distant sounds of the occasional car or person passing by outside. It could have been peaceful, if not for the lingering burn in Raleigh's chest. He knew the doc was judging him, one way or another, and as much as he knew that he couldn't change that fact, he didn't have to like it either.

Dr. Hansen moved on to Raleigh's right hand without a word and Raleigh allowed it, instead letting his gaze wander around the small doctor's office. It was stupidly quaint — bright and airy with soothing pictures on the walls. Raleigh couldn't imagine that Dr. Hansen had ever treated anything more serious than colds, coughs, cuts, and the occasional broken bone.

He found himself wondering what the doc would think of the collection of scars Raleigh had — the two bullet holes in particular, since he probably hadn't seem many of those before. It was a silly thought, and Raleigh pushed it out of his mind as quickly as it had arrived.

It wasn't as easy to ignore the doc himself, which was more than a little frustrating — mostly because the guy obviously wasn't trying to be distracting. He seemed engrossed in what he was doing, focused but relaxed while completely ignoring Raleigh, his face for once not looking close to a sneer.

A part of Raleigh wanted to stare and another wanted to push him away. Maybe it was because Raleigh wasn't used to having people in his personal space without expecting violence — even less so if they were actually touching him — or maybe he just didn't like how it made him feel strangely vulnerable.

Dr. Hansen looked way too young to be a doctor. His hands were warm and firm — strong, yet mindful of Raleigh's sprained wrist and the scrapes on his skin — and Raleigh had to look away. He couldn't say why, except that it left him with a decidedly uncomfortable squirm in his chest.

A second later Raleigh flinched back, catching sight of something moving towards his face. His hand shot up on pure reflex, latching on to the doc's wrist in a grip that was probably tight enough to hurt. His own wrist complained, sprained as it was, and Raleigh felt the telltale spike of adrenaline, making his body thrum with alarm.

The entire room seemed to still — the sharp, breathless tension back with a vengeance — but instead of looking frightened, or even uncomfortable with the fingers currently squeezing around his wrist, the doc merely gave Raleigh a calm, deadpan look. It managed to be surprisingly reprimanding.

"Calm the fuck down, princess." Dr. Hansen's voice was a little tight, but he made no attempt to pull away, his hand remaining frozen in midair, holding one of the cotton pads. The doc wasn't moving at all, in fact, standing stock-still and coiled tight, despite the guarded look in his eyes. As if he wanted nothing more than to fight back, but knew that he shouldn't.

Dr. Hansen was trying not to make the situation escalate, Raleigh realized, since he had obviously recognized a conditioned response when he saw one. Raleigh wasn't trying to hurt anyone; he just wanted to make sure that he wasn't going to get hurt himself. It was pure self-preservation instinct.

In that instant Raleigh was infinitely grateful that he hadn't felt cornered enough to lash out in return, but merely tried to divert the threat coming towards him. Punching the doctor in the face probably wouldn't have gone over very well.

"You've got blood on your face, mate," the doc explained, tone less sharp but still far from soft. He clearly wasn't one to coddle his patients. "I was just going to wipe it off."

"Oh." Raleigh swallowed before letting go of the doc's wrist. "Sorry."

He wasn't sure why that word slipped out. He rarely used it nowadays, if ever, and it felt thick and uncomfortable on his tongue.

A part of him wanted to say that he could clean his face himself — he hadn't even noticed that he might be injured there as well — but a part of him knew that he would feel pathetic if he did. He wasn't so paranoid that he wouldn't let people touch him. He might not _enjoy it_ , but he wasn't that far gone yet.

So all he did was turn his head slightly to the side when Dr. Hansen gestured for him to do so, holding back his urge to move out of reach. It wasn't like the doc was actually touching him — not even to steady his hand — but it still caused Raleigh's spine to stiffen to see the movement in the corner of his eye. He couldn't help clenching and unclenching his jaw, impatiently waiting for the doc to finish.

It only took a couple of swipes with the cotton pad before the blood seemed to be gone.

"There. As good as you're going to get." The doc took two steps back, throwing away the bloodied pads. Next he peeled off the gloves with well-practiced movements, tossing them into the trashcan as well.

Raleigh relaxed, if only slightly.

"None of the scrapes are bad and will heal within a week or so." Dr. Hansen sounded bored. He looked at Raleigh, expression deadpan, but something was lurking in his eyes — something that could be amusement. "Can't do much about the state of your face, though, but after so many years with it you might have grown attached. What do I know?"

It was clear that he wasn't referring to whatever injuries Raleigh might have sustained. And, despite the obvious insult in those words, Raleigh found himself snorting on a laugh. A real laugh, instead of one brought on by scorn or sarcasm.

"You're fucking horrible at this," Raleigh said, grinning wider than he had in years. "It's like your only two settings are snarky condescension or displeased annoyance."

Dr. Hansen shrugged, hands returning to the pockets of his white coat, but Raleigh could see a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"I try."

Raleigh chuckled softly while pulling his sleeves back down. He wasn't self-conscious exactly, but he had never been eager to show his scars. That was personal. The scrapes and nicks on his hands stung, but at least they were clean, and they were clearly too small to require even a simple band-aid.

"You can pay at the front desk on your way out. Tammy will help you."

Raleigh looked up. He should have expected it — he had been checked over and had no reason to linger — but he still felt inexplicably disappointed to have to leave. Which was just ridiculous. He couldn't barricade himself at the local doctor's office. He wasn't even sure _why_ he would want to.

"Sure." Raleigh hesitated only briefly before he lowered himself onto the floor, taking extra care not to put too much weight on his right foot.

Dr. Hansen was observing him calmly, but soon turned towards the desk at the other end of the room. It was full of papers and medical journals, and Raleigh felt a strange jolt when he realized that the doc didn't even know his name. Raleigh had given a false one when he arrived and explained about the accident to the nurse.

Not that it mattered. It _shouldn't_ matter. It was safer this way.

"Will you stop staring? Or do you have a head injury that you haven't told me about?" Dr. Hansen said dryly, not even looking over his shoulder as he spoke.

Raleigh didn't really have a good comeback at this point. He usually would, but he was struck dumb by his own reluctance to leave. He was fairly certain that it had to do with the fearless, brash doctor standing just a couple of feet away.

"If you're worried about journals or leaving traces you don't hafta be," the doc drawled, his accent thickening for a brief second. "I'll file this under whatever false name you gave. No one here will care, and as long as you pay I don't give a shit."

Raleigh almost startled at the words, but he probably shouldn't have been surprised. Dr. Hansen was apparently a lot smarter than his asshole aura seemed to suggest, so he would naturally presume that Raleigh had taken precautions to hide his identity. Raleigh wasn't wanted or followed, but he disliked leaving a trail none the less.

"You're awfully calm about this," Raleigh remarked.

"I'm just not gullible enough to believe that someone like you would give me his real name," was the careless reply. Dr. Hansen gave him an even, judging look and Raleigh had to fight down his ire. He had no right to be insulted over the doc's assumptions when they were in fact true.

Still, that didn't mean that he had to lose the argument. Raleigh felt an insane urge to do whatever it took to gain the doc's attention — to make a lasting impression besides coming off as a hostile, paranoid biker. It was ludicrous, but too strong an impulse to ignore.

Dr. Hansen had time to turn back towards his desk before Raleigh found the courage to speak, which was silly really, because it was just one word. It was just that he hadn't spoken it in years — or heard it said to him for even longer than that.

"Raleigh."

The doc looked at him, frowning in mild confusion.

"What?"

"My name is Raleigh." His voice was hoarser than it should have been, but Raleigh ignored it.

The doc stopped short. Raleigh had clearly taken him by surprise, and he couldn't help smiling smugly at that. Dr. Hansen's lips slowly curled into a responding smile. It was crooked and amused, but still disarmingly pleasant.

The doc had dimples.

"Well then, _Rah_ leigh, be careful with your sprains, don't overexert yourself, and pay at the front desk." Despite the abrupt nature of the words, the doc didn't seem annoyed. Teasing, if anything, and even a tiny bit pleased — but for what reason Raleigh couldn't tell.

Maybe Raleigh should have felt offended to have his name butchered the first time he heard it in years — and he had definitely flinched at the lazy, rolling drawl on the first syllable — but at the same time that made it easier. It sounded nothing like Yancy used to say it, which was actually a comfort.

"Thanks for the care, doc," Raleigh replied, not having forgotten his manners just because his lifestyle wasn't entirely on the legal side of things.

"Just try not to crash again, you drongo."

Raleigh was walking towards the door but couldn't help looking back towards Dr. Hansen, grinning widely as he wrapped his fingers around the handle.

"I knew you cared."

The doc snorted, his smirk teasing.

"I'd just rather not be the one forced to peel you off the highway, one piece at a time."

"I'll keep that in mind." Raleigh offered a nod, which was returned in kind, and with that he pushed down the handle and walked into the small reception area outside. A part of him wanted to stay — he couldn't deny that — but he really had no reason to.

If anything, he should head out and find his bike so that he could finally leave this picture-perfect little town that he had no place in. The fact that Dr. Hansen might have to be included as one of the benefits of said town, well, that was another thing entirely. Not to mention slightly masochistic, considering just how harsh and blunt the guy was. Still, there was a certain thrill to meeting someone who wasn't afraid of him, but didn't try to kill him either. Someone who challenged him not out of some misguided macho pride, but because he refused to be stepped on when Raleigh got hostile first.

Easily angered as the doc seemed to be, there was also something undeniably firm and unrelenting about him. Something that could actually _prove_ a challenge for once, if Raleigh felt inclined to stick around.

Raleigh quickly smothered the thought before it gained hold, knowing that he was straying dangerously close to getting attached. He couldn't do that. He couldn't give this place — or Dr. Hansen — any kind of sway over him. He couldn't afford that.

He had to keep moving.

Raleigh repeated this like a mantra inside his head while he paid for his care, ignoring the slightly terrified look on Tammy's face as he did so. He would never harm her. Not to mention that he had better things to do. Like getting out of town before he felt a need to linger even longer, just because of some stupid doctor who didn't even like him in the first place.

He kept repeating that, over and over as he searched for Larry's workshop, but he had no idea whether it would work or not. He had no idea whether he would manage to curb that tiny, struggling part of himself that wanted to stay. It was founded mostly in curiosity and maybe just a little bit of longing, and Raleigh didn't want it. He didn't want weakness or attachment. He had learned the hard way just how much that could hurt, and he wasn't going to set himself up for that again.

He refused to.

" _A week_?" Raleigh couldn't help that he raised his voice to the point of almost shouting.

Not that big, mild-tempered Larry seemed to find it offensive — or threatening for that matter. The man just nodded sympathetically, a frustratingly kind look in his eyes.

"Yup. At the earliest. It needs parts and they have to be shipped in."

Raleigh held back a colorful curse, knowing that it wouldn't help to start spitting insults at the mechanic. He wasn't the one who had hit Raleigh with an SUV. Not that Raleigh would have harmed the soccer mom either, if she had been present, but he felt cornered and angry, wanting to lash out at something.

He was supposed to _leave_ town, not get stuck in it for another week. He would go stir-crazy.

Raleigh ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. He was tempted to question Larry's expertise and ask to look over his bike himself — Raleigh knew how to handle most problems that could befall his motorcycle — but he knew that would be based in his own helplessness, not actual doubt about Larry's abilities. It would be rude to take out his frustration on the mechanic.

"Just— there's nothing you can do? At all?" Raleigh knew that he was beginning to sound pathetic.

Larry shook his head.

"Sorry. I mean, you could try getting her started," the big, burly mechanic offered apologetically, "but even if you managed, you probably wouldn't make it as far as the interstate."

"Fucking hell," Raleigh hissed under his breath, restraining himself from kicking the conveniently placed toolbox — not because of politeness, but because his ankle was injured and he'd rather not make it worse. It was also why he wasn't pacing restlessly.

"I'm sorry, buddy. But I'm sure Rhonda and Paul have some room for you at the—"

"Yeah, thanks," Raleigh interrupted with a tight smile.

He had stayed at the local inn before — it was too picturesque and perfect to be called anything else — but it made his skin crawl to be surrounded by all that calming pale blue and homey décor. He looked even more out of place there than usual. The couple owning it was almost disgustingly polite and either managed to hide their judgment a lot better than the other townsfolk, or was less affected by how Raleigh looked.

He wasn't quite sure which it might be.

"I'll make sure to prioritize your bike as soon as I get the parts," Larry promised, the kindness somehow grating even more on Raleigh's rapidly diminishing patience. "Just leave your phone number and I'll call when I'm done."

"Sure." Raleigh couldn't keep the agitation out of his voice, gritting his teeth to hold back the cruel, unnecessary words he wanted to speak. "Thanks."

But in reality, he wasn't thankful at all. The need to get out of town was like a physical itch by then — a tension pressing down on him, making him want to punch something in sheer desperation. He couldn't stay. He didn't _want_ to stay. If he stayed he might find more things that he liked, and he didn't fit in here — he would _never_ fit in here. He was too rough, ragged, and broken. He couldn't stay.

But it looked like he had to, at least for another week.

Fucking hell.

 


	2. Attraction

 

* * *

 

By day two Raleigh felt restless enough to want to murder something. Well, not _literally_. The violence he used was mostly in self-defense, and this was clearly not a situation where he was being threatened. That is unless you counted being smothered in hospitality by the couple owning the local inn as an act of aggression.

There were no other places in town where he could stay — not even a seedy motel. He was slowly going crazy from how the kind, considerate couple tried to make sure he had everything he needed, was well fed, and felt as comfortable as he could get. Bizarrely enough, their care was what made him feel the most uncomfortable. He knew the couple had children and grandchildren — judging by the adorable family photo hanging on the wall behind the reception desk — but he didn't appreciate being treated like one of them.

The other four guests were shown the same kindness, but it took on an entirely different meaning with Raleigh, since he was the only one below fifty. The innkeepers Rhonda and Paul — they had been very eager to introduce themselves — seemed to want to _coddle_ him, and Raleigh was definitely not interested in that.

So most of the time he made himself scarce or locked himself into his room. But the latter wasn't any better when he felt reluctant to touch anything, since the sheets, furniture, and decorations were all so pristine and dainty that it felt like he'd ruin them with his mere presence. He could admit that it was nice being able to shower every morning without the fear of getting himself dirtier from the state of the bathroom, but that was a small consolation.

And the breakfasts were fantastic.

But apart from that Raleigh really tried not to let himself get settled. He wouldn't be staying. A week was longer than he had planned, sure, but he would leave the moment his bike was repaired. He was pretty certain that most of the townspeople would be happy to see him go.

Not wanting to stay cooped up at the inn meant that he spent a lot of his time aimlessly drifting around town, and he could understand if people were unnerved by that. It probably looked like he was scouting out which house to rob when, in actuality, he was desperate for something to do and taking walks was one of the few things he could think of. Never mind that it made his ankle twinge with each step.

How else was he going to keep himself occupied? He didn't even have a TV in his room. There was one in the so-called 'lounge area', but that meant putting himself in Rhonda and Paul's line of sight. Or worse: socialize with the other patrons.

So walks it was.

Once he had grown bored of the center of town — around day three — he drifted closer to the outer edges, exploring what lay beyond the neat rows of houses. He wasn't surprised when he found breathtakingly beautiful scenery and long, winding graveled paths that the locals used for their morning jogs or walking their dogs.

Could this town get any more stereotypic and perfect? It was beginning to reach unsettling levels, to the point where Raleigh wondered when the townspeople would bring out the pitchforks and try to sacrifice him to a pagan god.

Or maybe he had just watched too many horror shows on TV.

Either way, it felt impossible for a group of people to be so well-adjusted. Not that he doubted that there were scandals and crime just like in any other place where humans gathered, but he had seen so little of it that he felt uneasy.

So he chose to stick to the nature paths, since he met fewer people that way. Not to mention that there were occasional benches dotted out along them, where he could waste hours just staring at the scenery. It might look different from where he grew up in Alaska — fewer mountains and different shades of green, most notably — but it was strangely soothing. Spring was slowly turning over to summer, and he could appreciate the vibrancy in the air and the bursts of color here and there.

But most of the time he was just bored.

He often let his thoughts drift, simply because he had nothing better to do. But he was never too distracted that he didn't notice when another person approached, which happened every now and then. Raleigh would usually glance up to pinpoint how long it would take until they would pass him, before looking away again.

He would have done so this time too, if he hadn't recognized who came walking along the path. Raleigh didn't exactly know a lot of people in this town.

Dr. Hansen looked different when he wasn't wearing his white coat. Without it he didn't look at all like a doctor, partly because of his age, and partly because of the casual jeans, tight t-shirt, and thin, unzipped hoodie he was wearing.

Well, that and the fact that he was more built than some of the thugs Raleigh ran into on a regular basis.

Raleigh couldn't help wondering if it came naturally or if one of the doc's main hobbies was exercising. He was probably taking regular walks at least, judging by the bulldog lumbering next to him. There was no leash, but the dog followed faithfully in step with the doc all the same.

Raleigh observed as they came towards him, but made no move to get up or otherwise acknowledge them. He knew better than to assume that he was welcome to, just because this was the doctor who had seen to his injuries.

The dog came first, speeding ahead of its master to curiously sniff Raleigh's boot and leg. Raleigh stared down at it, for the first time in his life realizing just how rude dogs actually were, assuming that it was okay to walk up to a person and start smelling them.

Dr. Hansen didn't seem to find this at all weird, or told his dog to stop. Instead he sat down on the bench next to Raleigh, unceremoniously and without asking, as if he had every right to do so.

Raleigh stared in surprise and almost scooted further away on pure reflex. They weren't touching — far from it — but he hadn't expected company. The doc casually braced one arm against the backrest but didn't actually look at Raleigh, ignoring his presence in favor of the scenery. The dog made some sort of grumbling noise, but Raleigh was too busy staring at its owner to really bother about that.

"Are you deaf or just dumb?" Dr. Hansen drawled eventually, before turning his head to give Raleigh a measured look.

Raleigh's eyebrows shot up in astonishment.

"Excuse me?"

Maybe he shouldn't have been surprised that the first words Dr. Hansen spoke were an insult, rather than a greeting.

The doc scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Does walking around for hours, several days in a row, count as 'not putting stress on your ankle' to you?"

Raleigh was momentarily dumbfounded. He sat there, blinking, before he managed to grasp what the doc had said.

"You're here to chastise me for not taking care of myself?" he asked incredulously. He couldn't deny, however, that he felt a slight spark of satisfaction that the doc hadn't forgotten him the moment Raleigh left his office.

"No, I'm here to tell you that you're a fucking idiot for not listening to the doctor's orders."

"I think those are pretty much the same," Raleigh pointed out, unable to hold back the smile slowly growing on his lips.

The doc shot him an exasperated look. The bulldog had taken to exploring the nearby tufts of grass, but didn't stray far enough that it couldn't still hear and see them.

"My phrasing is better," Dr. Hansen retorted, and Raleigh couldn't help snorting on a laugh.

"It has more swearing."

The doc shrugged.

"Your point?"

It sounded like a challenge, but Raleigh chose not to rise to it for once. He had other things he wanted to address.

"How did you know?"

He hadn't seen the doc during any of his walks, even if they had taken him all across town. Come to think of it, he was surprised that he hadn't, considering how small this place was. Then again, he had no idea what kind of schedule the doc kept.

"You really thought you could skulk around town without anyone noticing? In case you didn't know, you stand out in this crowd, genius," Dr. Hansen replied, sounding amused — and just shy of condescending. "And gossip spreads fast in a place this small."

"Yeah, as does paranoia," Raleigh muttered. It didn't surprise him to hear that the locals had been keeping an eye on him, but he didn't have to like it either.

"Relax," the doc drawled, "they're not ready to dig out the torches and pitchforks just yet. They're just being cautious."

The doc's gaze followed the bulldog's weaving progress, back and forth amongst the vegetation, curiously sniffing at a bush of some kind.

"But it wouldn't hurt you to smile and try to put them at ease, since you'll be here for another couple of days."

Raleigh felt his hackles rise. He didn't like people meddling in his business. The doc had probably heard about the repairs from Larry — and how long they would take — and it unnerved him that people were sharing information about him behind his back, without his consent or knowledge.

"I think smiling would only scare them," Raleigh remarked, not trying to keep the sharpness out of his voice.

Dr. Hansen didn't seem to notice — or maybe he just didn't care. He was a difficult man to intimidate, and it was both intriguing and frustrating.

"Nah. They'd be suspicious the first couple of times, I'll give you that, but you don't look nearly as much like a serial killer as you seem to think." The doc gave Raleigh a rather pointed look. "At least you wouldn't if you got a haircut and shaved."

"Not only do you nag at me for taking walks, but now you're going to insult the way I look too?"

Not that Raleigh was really offended. He knew the doc was right.

"Free of charge," Dr. Hansen replied with an infuriating smirk. Raleigh wasn't sure if he wanted to punch him or laugh.

In the end, he did neither, mostly because he got distracted by the dog waddling back and forth. The canine seemed to ignore the two humans entirely, and Raleigh had to admit that it fit the doc to have a bulldog. It was a little bit hilarious that the dog looked more inviting and friendly than its master, though.

"Here."

Raleigh looked back at Dr. Hansen, blinking in surprise when he noticed the paperback being held out towards him. He started at the book, then up at the doc.

Where on earth had he hidden that?

"You're bored, right? That's why you take all these walks." Dr. Hansen shrugged. "So here's a book. Borrow it. Read it. Stop ruining your ankle."

Reading might be an entirely reasonable substitute for the walks he was taking, but Raleigh still couldn't make himself accept the book. It looked to be some random crime novel going by the cover, but that wasn't what stuck with him. He couldn't help wondering if the doc had brought the book along with the sole intention of giving it to Raleigh. And if so, how long had he been carrying it around? Or had he intentionally gone out to find Raleigh?

The possibilities made his head spin. Not only was Dr. Hansen clever enough to figure out that Raleigh's aimless wanderings were due to boredom, but he had taken it upon himself to fix it — even though he didn't have to. That was both humbling and a bit terrifying.

Raleigh's hesitation made the doc wrinkle his nose in obvious contempt.

"You _do_ know how to read, right?"

"Of course I know how to read," Raleigh snapped, the insult serving to get him back on track. He snatched the book from the doc's hand, skimming over the title and author without recognizing either.

The thought of buying something to read at one of the convenience stores in town had crossed his mind — they had both magazines and a couple of paperbacks — but he hadn't actually gotten to the point of doing it. Maybe because reading wasn't exactly a favored pastime of his. But when he was handed one? It might cure some of his boredom and didn't require him drifting aimlessly for hours on end.

The worst that could happen was that he didn't like it.

Curiosity had him open the slightly worn cover — the book had to be the doc's own rather than newly bought — and he grinned as he read the words written with a neat, precise handwriting inside. The doc had received the book for his twenty-fifth birthday, apparently.

"Your name is _Charles_?" Raleigh asked, trying not to sound like he was as close to laughing as he actually was. Sure, it said Charlie, but that was usually a nickname for Charles.

The look the doc leveled him with was nothing short of murderous.

"Chuck." Said through gritted teeth, with an unmistakable threat of violence should Raleigh not heed the warning. "You don't have any right to talk. What were your parents thinking when they named you _Raleigh_?"

The slight twinge Raleigh felt was barely noticeable — certainly not something he intended to pay any attention to — and merely shrugged. He couldn't exactly ask them, could he?

"So who's Mako?" he asked instead, looking back down at the words written inside the cover.

"We spent a lot of time together as kids, since our dads worked with each other." The doc shrugged, but he seemed to be relaxing again. "She keeps in touch and we talk from time to time. Exchange gifts on birthdays and Christmas. That kind of shit. And she loves to call me Charlie just to piss me off."

"She sounds nice," Raleigh offered lamely. He wasn't sure what else to say, but he wanted to say _something_.

"She is," the doc confirmed with a nod. The smile on his lips was fond, and made him look disarmingly attractive. Raleigh tried desperately to ignore the flutter in his gut — he didn't need _that_ on top of everything else — but it was already too late and very difficult to fight.

Raleigh was beginning to prefer the doc looking hostile and smug, since it made him seem less approachable — maybe even a bit untouchable. Dr. Hansen was entirely _too_ touchable when he was relaxed and smiled.

Also: fucking dimples.

Raleigh really couldn't afford to be distracted. And it wasn't like he couldn't think of several ways to put some distance between himself and the doc — a couple of well-aimed barbs and sneers would surely do the trick. But the thought of actually _doing_ that left a sour taste at the back of his mouth. As harsh as the guy was, Dr. Hansen hadn't done anything to deserve that. Even most of his insults were only in response to ones Raleigh had thrown out first.

"If you want another book once you're finished, you know where to find me."

The doc was clearly unaware of what was going on inside Raleigh's head, and thank fuck for that.

Raleigh had always been fine with his own bisexuality, but he wasn't sure if everyone would agree. And he sure as hell didn't want to put it to the test with someone who wasn't just going to be a random one-night stand in some dingy bar. Raleigh actually had to stick around afterwards, and he figured that if the townspeople hadn't kicked him out yet, they definitely might if he defiled their resident doctor.

Raleigh should just hand the book back and leave. The subtle burn of desire was still weak enough to be smothered, if he acted fast enough.

But it was difficult to follow through when he saw the amusement sparkling in Chuck's eyes, and the confident way he held himself, even while was lounging on an uncomfortable park bench. He made it look so effortless.

Which only lit an even stronger burst of desire inside Raleigh.

Shit.

"Does this mean I can call you Chuck?"

That was _not_ what Raleigh had intended to say. He tried to deny that he felt a stir of very pleasant emotions when the doc gave him a smug grin.

"Go right ahead, _Rah_ leigh."

Fuck. That was _not_ supposed to make Raleigh's gut tighten with want.

"On one condition," Chuck added, smirk still in place. " _You_ make sure to get some fucking rest. Don't make me sic Rhonda and Paul on you. They'll forcibly keep you motionless if they have to."

Raleigh held back a laugh, if only barely.

"You wouldn't."

Chuck grinned, looking annoyingly pleased with himself.

"I definitely would."

And Raleigh didn't actually doubt that, so while he should have been offended by the intrusion, he mostly felt amused and flattered that Chuck cared enough to even bother. The feeling was foreign, but not entirely unpleasant.

Raleigh wasn't used to people caring about him — not any more.

"Fine," Raleigh relented, smiling despite himself, "I'll stay in and read a book tomorrow."

"Good boy," Chuck replied, before patting Raleigh's shoulder patronizingly.

Raleigh shot him an unimpressed look, but felt no inclination to shy away from the physical contact, even if he normally would have.

"I'm older than you," he pointed out, tone even and just shy of a warning.

Chuck, naturally, didn't give a rat's ass.

"Doesn't mean you're wiser," Chuck shot back without missing a beat and, yeah, Raleigh had to give him that. Most of the time, Raleigh felt like one of the biggest idiots on the planet.

Raleigh almost flinched when Chuck got to his feet, and the desperate clench in his chest was embarrassing for how needy it made him feel. He didn't want Chuck to leave. This was the most fun Raleigh had had in four days.

Since he last talked to the stubborn doctor, in other words.

That did not bode well, but Raleigh couldn't help that he felt drawn to the guy. Chuck was more interesting than most people Raleigh had met in the past five years, not to mention very pleasant to look at. Talking to him was an exercise not only in wit, but patience as well. For some reason — despite his own short fuse — he enjoyed the challenge. It was _fun_ talking to Chuck.

But Raleigh couldn't exactly say that, could he?

"Oi!" Chuck let out a sharp whistle, startling Raleigh with its shrillness. "Max! Come here, boy."

The bulldog snapped to attention before he obediently — if also somewhat lazily — came lumbering back towards them. He stopped next to Chuck's feet, tongue lolling and, for lack of a better word, _smiling_.

"You are such a dork," Chuck said fondly, looking down at his dog.

He still had the same soft expression on his face when he turned to Raleigh again, and Raleigh felt his heart make an involuntary skip at the sight.

Shit.

Chuck looked like an entirely different person when he wasn't being all arrogant and smug. A very likeable one — someone Raleigh might want to get to know better, even if he wasn't supposed to. He shouldn't get attached. He shouldn't make memories. And he sure as hell shouldn't feel a longing squeeze in his chest, just from looking at the guy.

Having sex with him was one thing — and Raleigh definitely wanted that too — but this was something else. Something much more dangerous.

"Well, Raleigh, I guess I'll see you around."

Raleigh swallowed down his instinct to snarl something in reply, just to push Chuck away and protect himself from all the complications that could arise from getting attached. Chuck didn't deserve to be treated that way.

"I guess you will," he answered instead, his smile tight and not very convincing.

Chuck seemed to notice the change in Raleigh's mood, judging by the slight pause, but eventually shrugged it off. All he did was give Raleigh a jaunty little salute before he started walking again. Max trailed after Chuck, but not before throwing a surprisingly eloquent glance in Raleigh's direction, as if to check whether he was coming too.

A part of Raleigh wanted to — he could admit that — but another part was terrified. This was the closest he had come to an actual friendship with anyone in years. And while that was both depressing and pitiful, it was by choice. Raleigh didn't want anyone tying him down.

Somehow, he had to make sure that Chuck didn't become someone Raleigh depended on.

He had a sinking feeling that he wouldn't be very successful, no matter how hard he tried.

Raleigh tried to pretend that it wasn't because of Chuck that he returned to the inn earlier than usual that day. But since he did so mainly because he wanted to get started on the book, his efforts were feeble at best. Rhonda and Paul seemed happy to see him, but Raleigh made sure to dodge their enthusiastic coddling as swiftly as he knew how — which might have left something to be desired as far as politeness went.

He slumped in relief once he could shut himself inside his room and lean back against the closed door. Raleigh felt exhausted, something that wasn't helped by his angrily throbbing ankle. His other injuries were thankfully less bothersome. He barely noticed the ache in his wrist unless he twisted it in some awkward way, and the scabbed-over scrapes only stung when he washed his hands or accidentally jabbed them.

Raleigh rubbed a hand over his face, his beard scratching against his fingers. It was getting longer than usual.

He couldn't help that his thoughts inevitably strayed to Chuck — namely his comments about Raleigh's appearance — but he scoffed and pushed them aside. Raleigh didn't care if he looked ragged, and it wasn't anyone's business if he did. Not even Chuck's.

After a slow exhale Raleigh made his way over to the bed, sitting down on the white bedspread. Doing that always unnerved him. He was so used to having dust, dirt, and spots of oil on his clothes that he automatically thought that he'd ruin the fabric. But he hadn't been close to his bike or the open road in days, and he was probably consistently cleaner than he had been in weeks.

He thumbed the book in his hand, turning it over to look at the back without actually reading the synopsis. He didn't care what it was about — he knew he would give it a try anyway. It wasn't all that thick, first of all, and second, well, he was curious enough to want to know what kind of books Chuck read. The worn edges and cracked spine suggested that someone had.

Raleigh figured that he could probably finish the book pretty quickly if he put his mind to it, provided that he actually enjoyed the plot.

It wasn't like he had anything better to do.

So, without allowing himself to linger on the fact that Chuck already had more sway over him than anyone had since Yancy, Raleigh flipped the book and opened it to the first page. He didn't want to consider the implications that he was willing to read a book — which he hadn't done in years — just because some random small town doctor had given it to him.

Raleigh could blame his lack of resistance on boredom, but the lie was so bad not even he believed it.

Raleigh refused to feel awkward or hesitant when he stepped inside the doctor's office the following day, probably closer to closing time than was considered polite. He had finished the book hours earlier — thanks to having stayed up a little longer than usual the night before — but he hadn't felt like finding Chuck until now. Out of pure defiance Raleigh wanted to prove to himself that he didn't have to see Chuck immediately after finishing the book he had loaned him. But that was, in all honesty, not any less pathetic.

The nurse behind the front desk stiffened noticeably when Raleigh came in, and he tried not to respond by straightening his shoulders and lifting his chin. It was a reflex honed from years of drifting around in the entirely wrong circles, where a threatening appearance was just basic self-defense.

He glanced at her nametag as he stepped closer — Tammy, right — but figured that it was better not to address her by name. He did make an effort to smile, though, like Chuck had suggested, even if it was a weak and somewhat strained attempt.

"Hi. I'm looking for Dr. Hansen."

"Oh!" She seemed to relax some, but her responding smile was tense underneath the politeness. "I'll let him know. You can... wait here."

She looked conflicted for a second, as if she was worried that leaving him alone would mean that she'd come back and find the place ransacked. Raleigh tried not to take offence, but in all honesty — he did. He might not look like an exemplary citizen, but it was really beginning to get on his nerves the way that the townspeople stared at him.

As if he were a ticking time bomb.

"Sure," he replied, feeling his hackles rise; his smile might have turned a bit sharper because of it. He knew it wasn't her fault, not really, but after having been looked at sideways for several days he wasn't in the mood to have such blatant distrust thrown in his face.

It pissed him off, simple as that.

She hurried out of the room. While he didn't exactly take any pleasure in having scared her, he still thought that he couldn't be blamed for being a bit annoyed. He hadn't actually done anything to these people, except look and behave in a different way, on top of leading a noticeably different lifestyle. But it wasn't like he was rude to anyone or broke any laws. If anything, he kept to himself in an effort _not_ to be noticed.

They should be grateful that he even made an effort.

Raleigh drummed his fingers against the book in his hands and tried not to feel too restless. But that was easier said than done, since he was midway through day five of being stranded in a town he _still_ refused to learn the name of, and his only source of entertainment was a rude, snarky doctor who shouldn't be as intriguing as he was.

Raleigh hadn't stayed this long in one place in over a year.

"Finished already?"

It was difficult not to smile when he heard the familiar drawl, laced with a teasing edge that was becoming pretty familiar too. And when Chuck gave him a cocky grin as he walked out from his office, well, Raleigh couldn't help responding in kind.

"I was bored," he replied with a shrug.

He tried his best to ignore Tammy, who was trailing behind Chuck with a wary look on her face. Her expression wasn't outright hostile, but it was bad enough when she glanced between Raleigh and Chuck, as if to figure out why they were even talking to each other. That look was a stark reminder of how different he and Chuck were. For all his flaws and sharp edges, Chuck was still a well-respected doctor — an important part of a functioning community — and Tammy clearly thought it strange for him to converse with someone like Raleigh.

He was everything but well-adjusted. Raleigh didn't fit in anywhere, and least of all in this perfect, quaint little town.

Raleigh cleared his throat, his smile briskly wiped away as he held out the book towards Chuck.

"I just came to return it."

Chuck accepted the paperback, either unaffected by or unaware of the suspicious look Tammy shot them as she returned to her place behind the reception desk. When Chuck met Raleigh's gaze there was something akin to a challenge there, as if he had sensed the change in the atmosphere — how Raleigh had gone from budding excitement to stiffly brief and distant. Chuck refused to look away, which left Raleigh feeling both uncomfortable and strangely mesmerized.

"Do you want borrow another one?" Chuck asked, as easily as if Raleigh had been any other friend.

The offer caught Raleigh off guard. It was one thing for them to talk when no one else saw, but he honestly hadn't thought that Chuck would be willing to do so in public. That would look pretty bad.

Then again, Chuck didn't seem to care a whole lot about other people's opinion of him, in any situation or capacity.

"I—" Raleigh hesitated.

A part of him wanted to get the hell out of there — away from Tammy's judging looks before he snarled at her to stop staring — but the way Chuck held his gaze made him pause. Because Chuck didn't seem to agree with her, and his expression was open and inviting.

Raleigh felt himself succumb to Chuck's stubborn and surprisingly steady calm.

"Yeah," he replied, managing a smile. "I'd like that."

"Ace." Chuck thumped the book against his other hand before turning to Tammy. "Can you close up on your own? I'll do it tomorrow."

Both Raleigh and Tammy looked dumbstruck, but she recovered faster than he did.

"S-sure, yeah. Of course I can." She nodded, but there was a noticeable uncertainty to the words.

"Thanks." Chuck started walking back towards his office but turned to point at Raleigh, then the floor. "Stay."

Raleigh was too stunned to be angry the first couple of seconds.

"I'm not a fucking dog," he called indignantly after Chuck, who disappeared from view before Raleigh even got halfway through the sentence.

"But it's working, aint it?" was the smug reply. Raleigh wasn't sure how to respond.

Leaving just to prove Chuck wrong was pretty childish, but to let him win wasn't an option either. Raleigh decided to follow after Chuck instead, figuring that it was a good compromise between the two.

"That depends on how you define 'working'," he said as he stepped inside Chuck's office, just in time to see him place the book on his desk and pull off his white lab coat. Which would have been a whole lot less distracting if Chuck hadn't been wearing one of those tight t-shirts underneath it.

Raleigh tried not to stare at Chuck's broad back.

"You just had to prove your point, didn't ya?" Chuck drawled with an amused scoff. "You're not very obedient."

"No one's actually tried to train me before," Raleigh replied, without even pausing to consider how it would sound. The realization came afterwards, about the same time as a slow, intrigued smirk spread on Chuck's lips.

"Is that an invitation?" The look Chuck gave him was both challenging and enticing.

Raleigh basically only had two options: tell Chuck to back off or play along. And he didn't actually _want_ Chuck to stop, because his voice had a hint of something else underneath the teasing — something molten and fierce that made Raleigh's pulse quicken. He wasn't sure if Chuck was actually flirting, but it sure as hell sounded like it.

"You're welcome to try, but it won't be easy." Raleigh pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, smiling crookedly as Chuck pulled on a brown leather jacket. It looked good on him.

Chuck reached for the paperback and slipped it into his pocket. His grin was effortless enough to make Raleigh's mind stutter to a halt for a split second.

"Good thing I like a challenge then, mate." Chuck patted Raleigh's chest with his warm, broad palm as he walked past and, honest to God, winked at him.

Raleigh couldn't help snorting on a laugh.

It was impossible to deny the excited sizzle that raced down his spine. Chuck _had_ to be flirting with him. The thought was both thrilling and worrying, because Raleigh wasn't sure if it was something he wanted to act on. He was definitely interested — that much was obvious — but he didn't want to get any more involved than he already was, even just for casual sex.

Then again, if the tension between them was anything to go by, the sex had the potential to be pretty fucking mind-blowing. But Raleigh wasn't sure if even that would be worth it, when Chuck was so unpredictable and difficult to read. That made Raleigh uneasy.

Like now, when Raleigh had no idea what Chuck was up to. He was obviously leaving for the day, but he hadn't explained why.

Raleigh caught up with Chuck in the reception area outside, where he was giving Tammy some last-minute instructions. Raleigh was polite enough to wait until Chuck had finished talking to her before he voiced his own question.

"Where are we going?" Raleigh was assuming that he would go with him.

"To my place, where the rest of my books are," Chuck replied easily, completely ignoring the stunned look on Tammy's face.

Raleigh could relate.

Talking to Raleigh in public was one thing, but inviting him home was a completely different matter. Did Chuck have any idea what kind of risk he was taking? Not that Raleigh had any intention of harming him or stealing from him, but people usually knew better than to trust a virtual stranger.

"Your place?" Raleigh asked incredulously.

Chuck rolled his eyes and started walking towards the door, apparently expecting Raleigh to follow — which he did, for lack of a better idea.

"Did I stutter?"

Raleigh pursed his lips, stepping out through the door Chuck so graciously held open for him. Chuck looked exasperated. Which was pretty standard, sure, but Raleigh didn't understand why _Chuck_ was the one feeling annoyed.

"Look, I just—"

"Cut it the fuck out, okay?" Chuck interrupted, facing Raleigh while the door shut behind them. He took a step closer, both in a blatant challenge and to give weight to what he said next. "I'm not afraid of you. Can you get that through that thick skull of yours? You're years too late to corrupt me, mate, so stop being so fucking full of yourself. I don't bloody care that you're an idiot, badass biker, and I sure as hell don't give a fuck about what other people think of me."

Raleigh felt his temper rise — which was expected — but more than anything he felt _chastised_. Because he couldn't exactly claim that Chuck was wrong. Raleigh _did_ feel like he'd taint this little town with his mere presence, just on account of being who he was.

He was so different from these perfect people with their perfect lives. And sure, Chuck was definitely a lot more jagged than the rest of them, but he was still a doctor with friends and a dog and probably a nice apartment — maybe even a house.

They were in completely different leagues.

Raleigh swallowed back his anger, if only because he didn't want to start arguing right there on the street, where Tammy was still watching, and where they were in plain view of anyone who might happen to walk past.

"You don't know me. Inviting me home could be a mistake," he said as calmly as he knew how.

Chuck scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Let me put it in terms you might understand, okay?" Chuck probably made an extra effort to sound as patronizing as possible. And the smile that spread on his face was pretty fucking menacing. "My old man knows roughly forty ways in which to kill a man with his bare hands, and he has taught me eighteen of them."

Chuck placed his hand on Raleigh's shoulder, who couldn't help stiffening cautiously in response. That didn't sound like the kind of thing Chuck would lie about, arrogant bastard or not. Raleigh had a hard time holding back his reflex to push Chuck away. This, unlike the other times Chuck casually touched or nudged him, felt closer to an actual threat.

"I can protect my own virtue, _Rah_ leigh, and probably damage you pretty badly in the process. I don't know why you think I'm a frail little flower, but I assure you that if you punch me I'll punch back, twice as hard." Chuck's posture softened somewhat, but his hand still remained on Raleigh's shoulder — a warm, heavy weight that was both grounding and restricting. "Does that make you feel better?"

Oddly enough, it did.

They might not know each other all that well, but he trusted Chuck's stubbornness and lack of fear in the face of Raleigh's temper. Chuck could handle it — Raleigh knew that already. But to hear it said out loud, mixed in with various insults and snarky arrogance, actually put him at ease. Chuck wasn't being gullible or too trusting. He knew exactly what he was doing and that Raleigh wasn't an easy person to be around — he just didn't give a fuck.

Raleigh felt the stiffness in his shoulders ease — he hadn't even noticed how tense they were until he relaxed. His heart was beating faster than usual, but if anything it gave him a slight thrill to go with the surprisingly pleasant tightness in his chest.

Was this what being accepted despite flaws and a bad history felt like?

He smiled — an amused, crooked thing — before nodding.

"Yeah, that's good enough for me."

"Awesome." Chuck patted his shoulder before taking a step back, confident, brash, and pretty fucking mesmerizing. "This way, princess."

Raleigh rolled his eyes but followed yet again, for lack of a better option. He didn't even try to justify it this time, because he knew he wouldn't be able to come up with a good enough excuse. Maybe he just didn't want to spoil the unmistakable feeling of warmth curled tight and secure in his chest.

Without a word of complaint Raleigh followed Chuck as he led them down the street, trying his damnedest not to smile.

He failed rather spectacularly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The alternative title to this fanfic is "How to Domesticate the Elusive North American Biker," because that's basically what's happening. Just watch. Chuck is an expert at this.
> 
> And before you ask: no, I have no idea what book Chuck loaned Raleigh (although I probably should what with being a librarian). Feel free to fill in that blank yourself.


	3. Crescendo

 

* * *

 

Raleigh wasn't surprised to find that Chuck lived in a decently-sized house with a nice front lawn and a blue mailbox. What _did_ surprise him was the deep green motorcycle parked inside the carport.

"How come you get to call my bike a death trap when you have one of your own?" Raleigh said, refusing to admit that he might be pouting.

Chuck raised an eyebrow, looking thoroughly unimpressed, and gave Raleigh a pointed once-over.

"Because you don't take the necessary precautions," Chuck replied, while climbing the porch steps.

"And you do?" Raleigh shot back, mostly just to be annoying.

"Helmets might not be sexy, but neither are skull fractures," was the curtly delivered response, which put an effective end to that conversation. Raleigh felt both insulted and impressed.

Not that Chuck noticed, since he was busy pulling out his house keys to the sound of ecstatic barking on the other side of the door.

"Yeah, yeah, fucking wait a second, you numbskull," he drawled, but despite the annoyed words a smile was growing on his lips.

Raleigh stood back when the door finally opened and Chuck's bulldog came tumbling out onto the porch, barking as if he hadn't seen Chuck in ages. It had to be nice to come home to that every day. Raleigh didn't blame Chuck for his fond grin when he bent down to say hi to his dog and get a couple of slobbering kisses.

"Hi to you too, handsome," Chuck _cooed_.

Raleigh held back a smile, if only barely, and had to fight a reflex to take a step back when Max switched targets and headed for him instead. Raleigh wasn't afraid of dogs — far from it — but he wasn't used to the friendly kind either.

"You better say hi or he'll drool all over your shoes," said Chuck, sounding amused. Raleigh crouched down, mostly because Max was looking up at him with pleading eyes. He was fairly certain that few people had the strength to resist that.

Max seemed incredibly happy for the attention and Raleigh couldn't help chuckling as he scratched the bulldog behind his ear.

"What does he do all day when you're not at home?" Raleigh wasn't entirely sure why he asked, but it seemed as good as any other subject.

Chuck pointed at the bright yellow house next to his.

"Mrs. J next door takes him out for walks and spoils him rotten. Sometimes she even refuses to give him back to me at the end of the day." Chuck looked pretty proud of how well-liked his dog was, though.

It was adorable and Raleigh held back an amused snort.

"Now get inside, both of you." Chuck pointed at the doorway and Max — after giving a suffering and surprisingly eloquent sigh — obediently abandoned his ear-scratches and lumbered back inside. The smile Chuck gave Raleigh was teasing. "Don't make me say it twice."

Raleigh was tempted to resist, just to see what Chuck would do, but it might be a bad idea to provoke something on Chuck's front porch. So he raised his hands in amicable surrender before straightening and stepping inside Chuck's house.

"Good boy."

"Don't push it," Raleigh shot back, but there wasn't any real heat to his words.

Instead, he took the opportunity to look around the hall, curious about Chuck's living space. Raleigh could glimpse a living room to his right, and what might be the kitchen further down to the left. A staircase leading up to the second floor was right ahead of him, and from what Raleigh could gather, Chuck wasn't much of an interior decorator.

"Spartan," was the first word that came to mind, quickly followed by "tidy." Although that didn't exactly say much, considering the state of the places Raleigh usually visited. And it wasn't like the house was spotless — there were things scattered about: books, clothes, a half-empty water glass — but the overall impression was still that of organization and discipline.

Which wasn't all that surprising, considering what Raleigh knew about Chuck so far.

"Books are in there." Chuck pointed towards the living room, before shrugging off his jacket.

Rather than heading there right away Raleigh took a detour, glancing into the kitchen and what turned out to be a downstairs bathroom. Chuck observed the proceedings with an amused — if slightly exasperated — look on his face. But since Raleigh wasn't told to stop,  
he figured he was allowed to continue the inspection. He wasn't opening drawers or looking inside cabinets; he just wanted to get a feel for the place. Well, the bottom floor, at least, because heading upstairs would have been intrusive.

Chuck eventually grew bored of watching Raleigh's progress and headed for the kitchen instead, Max following faithfully a couple of steps behind. Raleigh tried not to smile at how adorable _that_ was, but was clearly fighting a losing battle.

Something Raleigh noticed rather quickly was the lack of photos in the house. Usually, people had family portraits, vacation photos, or just pictures of friends and things they liked. Chuck had none. He had generic paintings — store bought by the looks of it — and a couple of movie posters on the walls, but that was it.

Raleigh wasn't sure what that might mean, but it made him feel strangely uneasy. Even _he_ had a bundle of old photos from when life was so much easier — before his parents died, Jazmine left, and Yancy was murdered.

But maybe Chuck wasn't the sentimental type. He obviously had a dad and at least one friend, but aside from them it was difficult to tell if Chuck liked to socialize with people, or just preferred to drawl insults at them until they went away.

"You want something to eat?" Chuck called from the kitchen, just when Raleigh had finished snooping around the living room and was turning to face the bookshelf.

Raleigh froze, feeling suddenly out of his depth.

"What?" he croaked, not entirely sure what else to reply.

He could practically _hear_ Chuck roll his eyes, even from a room away.

"Dinner, you idiot. Food. Grub. Tucker. Chow. Edibles. Sustenance."

Raleigh couldn't help snorting on a laugh, walking up to the well-stocked bookshelf.

"What are you? A thesaurus?" he called back, not exactly avoiding the question, but postponing having to answer.

He wasn't stupid enough to think that it was anything else than basic hospitality — or possibly some kind of attempt to woo him — that made Chuck ask, but Raleigh wasn't entirely comfortable with the thought either way. He knew that he had already given Chuck a lot more leeway than he should have. Despite his determination _not_ to get attached, Raleigh could already feel the warm thrum of fondness in his chest.

As much as he tried to pretend that he was mean, tough, and fine on his own, he did so mostly because he knew that he wasn't. He isolated himself because he had a tendency to find people far too fascinating otherwise, which he couldn't afford. Not now.

But Raleigh couldn't deny that he was almost desperately eager to get to know Chuck better — in most conceivable ways. That was a very bad sign — one that should have Raleigh heading for the door, not the bookshelf, but it was difficult to find the motivation.

It was difficult to walk away when all he wanted was to stay.

That in itself was enough to scare the everloving fuck out of him, because he hadn't felt that way in years. Since Yancy died he hadn't _wanted_ to stick around. It was better to drift around aimlessly, looking for something he knew he would never find. He hurt less that way.

But here? Right now?

He wanted to stay.

"Don't think I didn't notice you not answering the question," Chuck said from behind him.

Raleigh looked over his shoulder. Chuck stood leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyebrow raised. The bulldog sitting at Chuck's feet was giving Raleigh a similarly judgmental look.

He couldn't remember the last time he was invited to dinner at someone's house with no ill intentions behind it. Sure, Chuck looked like he might be aiming to get Raleigh into bed, but he was forgetting more and more why that was a bad idea.

Not entirely, however — not yet.

"I'm not sure if—"

"Raleigh." Chuck's tone was sharp enough to be warning, but not hostile enough for a threat.

Raleigh felt his spine stiffen, but he wasn't sure if it was from anger or unease.

"It's just food, mate. What could you possibly have against that?" Chuck looked annoyed, which Raleigh could understand.

And, really, Raleigh had nothing against being offered food — it was the one doing the offering who was dangerous. Chuck insinuated himself into Raleigh's life with the stealth and grace of a battering ram, and Raleigh wasn't used to that. He wasn't sure where this might lead him — or what it might cost him, for that matter.

But he might just be overreacting.

"Fine. Food's good." He sounded a lot less petulant than he'd planned.

And he wasn't entirely sure why he relented. Maybe it was the challenging look on Chuck's face — as if he knew exactly what was going on inside Raleigh's head and found it incredibly idiotic — or maybe Raleigh was just tired of running. He wasn't sure. What he did know was that he was dangerously close to slipping.

Chuck's smile wasn't triumphant or smug, which was a surprise. It was just a smile — a calm, pleased curl of his lips that wasn't making things any easier for Raleigh.

"Good. It'll be ready in fifteen," Chuck said while straightening from where he stood leaning against the doorframe. He gestured vaguely in Raleigh's general direction. "You pick a book or two in the meantime."

"Aye, aye, sir," Raleigh deadpanned, grinning when Chuck flipped him off before disappearing back towards the kitchen.

Raleigh let his gaze linger for a couple of seconds, trying to figure out what on earth he was doing, but he had no answers. He would just have to take it one step at a time, and try not to get himself so involved that he'd find a reason to stay once his bike was done. He was stranded for two more days at the very least, but he would have to leave sooner or later. He always left.

Chuck wasn't going to change that.

Chuck's cooking was a lot better than Raleigh's. Not that he had any intention of mentioning that out loud, because Chuck clearly didn't need anyone feeding his ego. But it was something to take note of and smile about, since the thought of Chuck having taken the time to learn how to cook was very cute. A lot of people didn't, even if they lived alone.

The dinner passed with surprising ease, perhaps because they stuck to subjects that were safe to discuss, even for them. Chuck explained more about the town, specifically the people living in it and just how weird Chuck thought they were from time to time. He was clearly a part of their society and spoke fondly of them — or as fondly as Chuck was able — but he was just as freaked out by the quaintness as Raleigh was, apparently. It was comforting to know.

Chuck still didn't explain why he had ended up living there in the first place, and Raleigh chose not to push. Maybe because he was actually having a good time, grinning at Chuck's sarcastic remarks and feeling a burst of pride whenever he made Chuck laugh. He didn't want to ruin the carefully maintained truce between them.

Not that they had argued to any major extent since that first meeting of theirs, but it was obvious that they might end up clashing if they weren't careful to keep out of each other's personal life. Chuck was as fiercely protective over his privacy as Raleigh was.

Once dinner was eaten Raleigh picked out which books he wanted to borrow — another thriller and what looked like a sci-fi novel about big robots — and Chuck nodded his assent while putting things away in the dishwasher. He had declined any help, and Raleigh had to admit that he'd surprised himself by offering in the first place. But maybe it was because Chuck showed him more kindness than most people would, without expecting anything in return.

Raleigh didn't feel indebted or obligated, but he did feel like he should make a similar effort.

Max, on his part, was sleeping on his doggy bed placed in the corner of the kitchen, one of his ears giving the occasional twitch.

Raleigh found himself with nothing better to do than watch Chuck work. The books Raleigh was going to borrow lay on the counter next to him, but he found himself more focused on Chuck.

Or maybe he should say _sufficiently distracted_ by Chuck. That t-shirt of his really was unnecessarily tight.

"Staring is one of your hobbies, isn't it?" Chuck drawled without looking up.

"You're quite sensitive when it comes to that. Why are you so on edge?" Raleigh asked, blatantly avoiding the question.

Chuck's reaction to being stared at wasn't the same hyper-vigilance Raleigh had developed over the years, when he had to be wary of threats most hours of the day, but it was something similar. Chuck was more aware of his surroundings than most people would be.

"Comes with the gig," Chuck replied flatly while closing the dishwasher. He straightened, but still didn't look at Raleigh.

"The gig?" Raleigh questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. "Really? Is it dangerous being a small town doctor?" There was no scorn in his voice, but maybe more sarcasm than strictly necessary.

"Yeah, you see, occasionally I have to stitch up serial killing bikers," Chuck replied dryly, giving him a pointed look.

Raleigh's smile was tinged with defiance.

"You didn't actually stitch me up."

"Are you saying you're a serial killer?" Chuck countered, a flash of smugness flickering past.

Raleigh only had himself to blame for walking into that one, but he still felt a need to push back — without really considering the consequences. Chuck looked far too pleased with himself, and Raleigh didn't like it.

"It involves your dad somehow, doesn't it?" Raleigh tossed out, knowing full well what the reaction would be.

Chuck froze. The moment of weakness only lasted for a split second, but it was enough to let Raleigh know that he was right. He tried not to smile, knowing that it would only piss Chuck off even more.

"Back off, mate," Chuck warned, once he had regained his composure.

"What? You're the one who said he taught you how to kill people with your bare hands. That raises a couple of questions — and concerns." Raleigh shrugged, not backing down despite how Chuck's shoulders were stiffening.

"Let's just say his work demands some special skills," Chuck snapped.

"So he's military of some kind?" Raleigh found himself intrigued. "And you became a doctor? Isn't that, like, the complete opposite?"

Chuck was gritting his teeth, as if to keep himself from hissing something back, and Raleigh was strangely fascinated by the sight.

"How is this any of your business?" Chuck growled, taking a small but telling step towards Raleigh.

Too bad Raleigh wasn't easy to intimidate. He could definitely feel the tension, though, thrumming through him, urging him to lash out.

"You did it to spite him, didn't you?" Raleigh asked. It hadn't passed him by that while Chuck could easily discuss Mako and the people of the town, he was careful to avoid the subject of his dad. He didn't seem to like his father very much, and probably had daddy issues a mile wide.

Chuck closed his eyes — just for a brief second, as if to gather his calm — but they were blazing when he opened them again, a slow, burning anger lurking in their depths.

"Last warning, Raleigh. Back the _fuck_ off."

Maybe Raleigh should have heeded that. A couple of years ago he would have, when he was still happy and smiling and Yancy was there to keep him grounded. But since then he had lived a life steeped in conflict and anger, so while it occurred to him that he might be pushing too far, that wasn't anything out of the ordinary. For a moment he forgot that this wasn't some fellow biker he was trying to intimidate.

This was Chuck, who he liked too much and didn't want to hurt.

"You have some serious daddy issues."

Raleigh could _see_ Chuck flinch. A second later Chuck tensed, coiled tight and defensive, as if he was inches away from throwing punches. Raleigh wasn't sure if what he felt sizzling through his veins was adrenaline or some weird kind of anticipation, but it was something all right.

But Chuck didn't hit him. Chuck took a step closer and his glare was fucking menacing, but he didn't get physical.

He did something much worse.

"Says the guy who tried to slit his own wrist."

Everything stilled. Raleigh couldn't even breathe, his chest constricting to the point of pain.

That was one of the last things he had expected to get thrown at him. In a way he understood why — Raleigh was pushing and probing where he shouldn't. Chuck had warned him that if Raleigh hurt him, he would hit back twice as hard, but he hadn't thought it would be with words.

Fists were easier to handle than words.

Raleigh felt cold — his skin detached from the rest of him — and he welcomed the anger when it finally managed to catch up, blood rushing in his ears.

"You fucking—"

"What's the matter?" Chuck interrupted, before Raleigh even finished the insult. "You don't like talking about private matters when they're your own?"

Raleigh took a step closer, uncrossing his arms. There was almost no space left between them.

"It's none of your business," Raleigh snarled, heedless of how his voice startled Max from his sleep.

"You just made it my bloody business, genius," Chuck shot back, matching him step for step — accepting the challenge and tossing an equally fierce one back. "I'll tell you about my dad if you tell me about your scar."

Chuck had to know that Raleigh would never agree to that. Chuck didn't seem any more thrilled at the prospect of baring his secrets to someone than Raleigh did, so he probably said it only to throw Raleigh off balance. Chuck thought that would scare him and make him back down.

Raleigh refused to.

"Those are hardly equivalent," he bit out.

The shift in Chuck was so subtle that Raleigh almost missed it. He hadn't actually thought that Chuck was holding _back_ — that he could somehow get _angrier_ — but that was obviously his mistake. Something with Raleigh's comment pushed all the right buttons, because when Chuck replied his voice was deathly cold.

"Oh yeah? What, you think you're the only one with scars? Is that it? The only one who gets to be fucked up and have a tragic back story?"

The look in Chuck's eyes was what made Raleigh snap to attention, and not in the way he thought he would. What Raleigh saw wasn't anger, but a steadily growing vulnerability — bare, raw, and somehow innocent. He realized that Chuck _allowed_ him to see it.

This was something else. This wasn't Chuck being angry because Raleigh asked invasive questions — this was them stumbling straight into things that should have been left alone. Raleigh had unintentionally unleashed something truly painful, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to handle the fallout. Probably not, judging by the look in Chuck's eyes.

Max whined from his doggy bed, but made no move to get up.

"I didn't—"

"Yes, you fucking did!" Chuck barked, jabbing Raleigh's chest hard enough to make him flinch and take a step back. "You think that because I have a job and an education, I don't know what pain is? That my life is perfect? That I can't understand that you're just lashing out like some child throwing a stupid tantrum? Because you are, Raleigh, you _fucking_ are. You act tough and angry but under it all you're afraid."

Contempt was bleeding into Chuck's voice, but it didn't hide the tremble — the heartbreaking, telltale tremble. That fragility was what kept Raleigh from retaliating. Even more so, it made him feel like an asshole, because this was his fault. _He_ made Chuck sound that way.

"Chuck, I—"

"No, you know what? You asked — so I'll show you, okay?" Chuck practically spat.

Without waiting for a response Chuck turned, reached over his shoulder, and grabbed the back of his t-shirt, pulling it higher without actually taking it off. Raleigh wasn't sure what was going on until he realized that the long, jagged lines across Chuck's skin — that he'd first thought was a trick of the light — were in fact scars.

There were so many of them, of varying lengths and thickness, running down along the curve of his back. Big, ugly, nasty scars. They were old and faded, but must have hurt immensely when they were new.

Raleigh's heart squeezed and he tried to push down the flare of sympathy that burst to life in his chest. Just looking at those scars made him want to cringe. Raleigh didn't know what to say, but he was spared having to figure that out when Chuck turned to face him again. Chuck tugged his t-shirt down with a sharp, angry movement.

"That's from glass, okay? The glass my dad accidentally dragged me against when he pulled me out of our wrecked car. A drunk driver hit us, when I was still a kid." Chuck was clearly trying to hold on to his anger, but if anything he looked shaken — like he was cracking around the edges. "But that's fine, right? I survived — so did he. I got scars, but I'm alive."

Raleigh could tell that Chuck wasn't fine. Raleigh knew there was something more to that story, without having to ask, because on Chuck's face he saw the same kind of loathing and self-hate he saw in the mirror when he was thinking too much about Yancy.

Survivor's guilt.

"My mum didn't make it. You see, my dad chose to help me first. And why wouldn't he?" Chuck swallowed. It looked like it hurt. "She begged him to — I heard her. She begged him to take me first, even if she was bleeding and barely breathing." Chuck spread his arms in an achingly helpless gesture, letting them fall back to his sides a moment later. "And he did."

Raleigh tried to remember how to breathe. It wasn't going well. He hadn't meant for this to happen.

He wanted to know more about Chuck, but this wasn't just painful — it was fucking _agonizing_. To hear Chuck's voice inch closer and closer to breaking, while his expression grew more and more distant, as if he was slowly but surely shutting off to avoid feeling the loss again.

"So yeah, I have daddy issues, because for years I thought it was my fault. I thought that he hated me for killing his wife. That he regretted bringing me along for that drive and putting me first." Chuck gritted his teeth. "I fucking _hated_ him for it. For how guilty it made me feel and how my mum had to die and every other stupid fucking thing a kid thinks when he loses a parent to something like that. It was only Mako's insistence that actually made me talk to my dad and straighten it out, before it was too late."

Chuck shrugged, making the act seem nonchalant despite the words he was speaking.

"I still have issues. My dad is still an arse and so am I. We don't talk much, but I don't hate him. We get along relatively well."

There was something alarmingly distant in Chuck's eyes when he met Raleigh's gaze. It looked like he had run himself empty.

"Is it equivalent to your scar? I don't know. I never ended up being suicidal, but I could have — I'm not stupid enough to assume otherwise." Chuck sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes, then down over his face. He seemed tired, and his voice was growing soft. "But I do know what you feel. I recognize the anger and the guilt. You distance yourself from others because you think it will help — that it will hurt less." The expression on Chuck's face wasn't a smile as much as a sad grimace. "But it won't, trust me on that. I've been there. I was fucking nuts in my teens, acting out and angry all the bloody time, but it didn't help."

There was a loaded silence.

"Mako was what helped," Chuck said quietly. "Having a friend."

Raleigh felt his chest constrict at the look Chuck gave him, somewhere between compassion and pity. He shouldn't be the one to look at Raleigh like that, not after what he had just revealed.

"You never had that, did you?" The question was careful, as if Chuck didn't want to scare Raleigh with his words. "A friend, or someone to rely on?"

Despite Chuck's efforts, the questions were terrifying. Raleigh hated them, because they made him feel desperately alone, at the same time as he was angry that Chuck looked so broken. That Chuck had been forced to go through this, and that Raleigh had been insensitive enough to dig it all up again.

At that point, Raleigh didn't care much about his own problems, because it struck him full force that he had made Chuck's worse.

"I'm sorry." He didn't know what else to say. He tried to swallow down the guilt but couldn't.

Chuck looked at him, expressionless. Raleigh knew he was being scrutinized, but he didn't know what was going on inside Chuck's head. He wasn't sure if he wanted to.

Eventually Chuck sighed, his shoulders slumping. He looked exhausted.

"I know." Chuck's voice was softer than ever before.

That only made Raleigh feel worse.

"I'm really sor—"

"Raleigh," Chuck interrupted, stepping close enough to catch and gently lower Raleigh's hands when he tried to run them through his hair in frustration. "I know."

He didn't say he forgave him or that it was okay, but Raleigh couldn't blame him for that. Things weren't okay. Raleigh had fucked up big time.

"I'm sorry about your mom."

The corner of Chuck's mouth lifted, just a fraction, and it was far from a real smile.

"Thanks."

Raleigh felt himself crumble. His heart was beating loud and echoing in his chest, and Chuck looked so vacant and tired that Raleigh wanted to cower and hide. Why had he done that? Why had he kept pushing?

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

This time Chuck interrupted him by smoothly moving closer and pressing his lips against Raleigh's. That took him by surprise — enough to make him stiffen — but he didn't flinch back.

Sure, they were undeniably attracted to each other, but a kiss was pretty much the last thing Raleigh thought he would be getting after the shit he just pulled.

He sure as hell didn't deserve it.

The kiss didn't last long, but Chuck was almost smiling when he eventually pulled back.

"Stop apologizing, you idiot. I was an arse too." Chuck reached up, his warm hand settling against Raleigh's neck, before sliding through Raleigh's hair to cradle the back of his head. "Don't think I'm usually this forgiving, but you seem to need it. So stop apologizing."

Raleigh allowed the moment to linger. He wasn't even sure why he wanted it to. His chest hurt from all the guilt and pain, but something else was pushing through, warming the blood in his veins and making his heart race.

He didn't actually stop long enough to put a name on the emotion, because he knew what it was telling him to do and that was enough. It was easy — so fucking easy — to lean in and kiss Chuck. Raleigh felt like he might just forget how to breathe if he didn't. His entire body felt wired, begging for some kind of outlet, but it wasn't for violence — not even lust. This was something else, that thrilled and terrified him in equal measure.

Chuck responded without hesitation, deepening the kiss and using the grip he had to angle Raleigh's head to his liking. The kiss was both urgent and intense, to the point where Raleigh wasn't even sure what to do with it all.

His hands settled on Chuck's hips but drifted further within seconds, restless and searching.

Chuck was warm under Raleigh's palms, even through the fabric of his t-shirt. Raleigh lost himself to the feel of Chuck's strength; the movement of rolling muscles and coiling tension against his hands. Chuck was vibrant with life.

It was intoxicating.

In some distant part of his mind Raleigh heard the click of claws against the hardwood floor, signaling that Max had decided that leaving the kitchen was a good idea. Raleigh was far too focused on Chuck to actually care.

The kiss itself was less fierce than he had expected, less violent.

Of course, it wasn't gentle either.

But there was still an undercurrent of vulnerability. Maybe it was because of the things Chuck had said — the grief still thick in the room — or maybe it was because this was the first time in a long while that Raleigh actually _cared_ about the person he was kissing. He wanted to make sure it was good, beyond just the physical pleasure.

That was a responsibility he hadn't felt the need to shoulder in ages.

He was so acutely aware of everything Chuck did — how his other hand joined the first, tangling in Raleigh's hair, tugging just enough to send a thrill down his spine and making him gasp. Raleigh had forgotten what it was like to want someone this badly. The intensity took his breath away, and made him plunge headfirst into the kiss, wanting even more — the taste, the warmth, the smell, and the sounds.

Chuck's kisses were demanding and confident in a way that set Raleigh's blood alight.

Raleigh couldn't help moaning — a deep, ragged thing at the back of his throat — when Chuck's teeth dragged against his bottom lip, sending a jolt of burning pleasure straight to his gut.

It didn't take much effort at all to push Chuck backwards, until he was pressed up against one of the kitchen counters. Chuck probably went willingly, but that still made Raleigh's entire being hum with pleasure — that Chuck trusted him enough to let him do it.

The kiss was heating up, making Raleigh's pulse quicken to the point where he could feel his heart press painfully against his ribcage. His hands grew bolder and more eager, and he tried his best to ignore the twinge in his right wrist when he angled it in ways he shouldn't have. The flash of pain was easily forgotten when Raleigh moved closer, practically pinning Chuck to the counter, and rolled his hips. They seemed to slot together so perfectly that Raleigh felt the tremble that went through Chuck's body as if it had been his own.

Raleigh broke the kiss long enough to suck in a quick lungful of air, feeling both breathless and lightheaded, his blood rushing south and all his reason following along with it. He had completely forgotten that this might be a bad idea; that he wasn't supposed to get more attached to Chuck than he already was.

He couldn't deny that the sight of Chuck's pleased grin — just before he used his grip on Raleigh's hair to pull his head back and bare his throat for Chuck's lips and teeth — was downright addicting. Raleigh wanted to see it many, many times in the future.

For now he barely managed to hold back a groan when Chuck nipped along his throat, and it didn't take long before Raleigh found his hips moving again, almost of their own accord. It was gratifying to hear Chuck's breath hitch in response.

Raleigh's hands wandered in under Chuck's shirt, mapping out the pattern of scars on Chuck's back with his fingertips. A second too late he realized that he might be doing something he shouldn't. Raleigh froze, suddenly uncertain, but Chuck seemed less bothered.

"You think too fucking much," Chuck muttered next to Raleigh's ear. His voice was rough in a way that went straight to Raleigh's dick. Chuck's breath was a warm gust of air that only amplified the hunger tightening in Raleigh's gut. "I won't break, Raleigh."

He didn't find the words to reply until Chuck had pulled back far enough that their gazes could meet.

"I know."

Because Raleigh did — he doubted that he could physically hurt Chuck, and he didn't want to, for that matter. Chuck could take care of himself.

Raleigh had to hold back a wince when Chuck gave his hair a pointed tug.

"Then fucking show it," Chuck shot back, his eyes blazing.

There was no need to ask if that was a challenge. The invitation hung so blatantly between them that all Raleigh could do was huff out a laugh. The grin on his lips was almost feral, and he greatly enjoyed watching the shiver he caused when he ran his hand up along Chuck's back — bold and unapologetic. Chuck didn't say anything, probably because it would have been a waste of precious seconds, before he pulled Raleigh in for another deep, bruising kiss.

The fire that had flickered hesitantly just a second earlier burst to life again, burning through Raleigh's veins and spurring him to reach for more. His hands were urgent as they explored Chuck's bare skin, their hips aligning while the kiss turned sloppy, all nipping teeth and gasping, panting breaths.

The countertop had to be digging into Chuck's back from how Raleigh was pushing against him, but he made no complaints. Chuck met the thrusts with an equal amount of need and Raleigh wasn't surprised when Chuck released his grip on Raleigh's hair to reach down between them. Chuck had satisfyingly clever hands, making short work of opening Raleigh's jeans.

When Raleigh attempted to return the favor — since he was very much in approval of Chuck's initiative — he felt a sharp lash of pain in his injured wrist. He didn't get much further than opening Chuck's pants.

"Fuck!" he hissed before he had time to curb it, both from the pain and the fact that the angle was clearly not something he could work with — not with his injuries.

"Easy there, _Rah_ leigh," Chuck admonished with a grin. His grip was surprisingly gentle when he pushed Raleigh's injured hand aside. "Don't make it worse than it already is — doctor's orders."

Raleigh wanted to protest but that thought — as well as his ability to form coherent speech — was momentarily derailed when Chuck eased his hand inside Raleigh's pants. Chuck had clearly meant to cause just that reaction, and Raleigh couldn't deny that as a way of shutting him up, it worked like a charm.

Raleigh made an embarrassing noise at the back of his throat — which earned him a wide, toothy grin from Chuck — and decided that maybe he would just have to trust Chuck to handle the situation. Judging by the way Chuck efficiently freed Raleigh's cock from the confines of his jeans he had more than enough experience to be entrusted with the task. He seemed to take great pleasure in it, as a matter of fact.

To compensate for his lack of involvement further down Raleigh grabbed hold of Chuck's collar in, pulling him in for a fierce kiss. Even that made his wrist twinge, but not quite as badly, so he ignored it. That was ridiculously easy to do when he got caught up in kissing Chuck, and distracted by the steadily growing burn of want gathering under his skin.

Chuck's fingers closed around his dick, Raleigh moaned against Chuck's lips, uncaring about dignity or shame. Chuck's strokes confident and purposeful, and they felt unbelievably good.

Raleigh's pulse skyrocketed and he lost himself in the sensations — Chuck's taste on his lips and tongue, the feel of Chuck's steady, warm hand wrapped around him, while the other found its way back into Raleigh's hair, tugging just enough to add a sizzle of exquisite pain to the pleasure. It left Raleigh breathless and wanting, clinging to Chuck in a way he would definitely feel embarrassed about later, but couldn't help while he was in the middle of this whirlwind of tight, coiling need.

Chuck didn't seem much better off when Raleigh nipped at his bottom lip, teasing forth a delicious groan and made Chuck speed up his movements, his carefully maintained control slipping. Raleigh reveled in it, his breath trembling against Chuck's lips when he made an attempt to catch some much-needed air.

Despite their eagerness they didn't fumble. Maybe that was because Chuck seemed to be a very focused and determined person in general — not to mention goal-oriented — or maybe it was because they had spent the entire dinner pretending they weren't dying to rip each other's clothes off. Pretending poorly, at that.

So now that they finally could, well, Raleigh wasn't surprised that their encounter was rushed. It wasn't like that made it any less intense or sincere.

Fact was, Raleigh couldn't remember last time he had felt so engaged when it came to sex. Usually, it was just an urge that was easy to quell, but this here was something else entirely.

Raleigh couldn't stop kissing Chuck. He wanted to move as close as physically possible, and he embraced the sensations rushing through his system with an enthusiasm that was almost joyful. He forgot all about being paranoid or cautious when Chuck took them both in that broad hand of his — quite skillfully, Raleigh might add — and, maybe for the first time in years, Raleigh let go.

He hadn't planned to — it just happened.

Control over himself was one of the few things he still had and rarely allowed himself to lose, but it was impossible not to succumb to the pleasure offered so boldly. Raleigh got swept up by the moment, climbing higher with each stroke of Chuck's fingers and each sloppy, hungry kiss they shared. It was messy and urgent by then, but also closer to perfect than Raleigh had been for years.

He was gasping by the time he reached his climax, just seconds before Chuck, and it left him loose and disoriented enough to just cherish the warm, comfortable bliss for a couple of seconds. The kiss he gave Chuck afterwards was slow and lazy, and Raleigh couldn't help humming softly with delight.

The fact that he was being more affectionate than he would usually allow completely passed him by.

Chuck responded in kind, the nails of his clean hand scratching gently against Raleigh's scalp, sending a gratifying shiver down his spine. Raleigh hadn't felt this relaxed in a long time. And it took him a second to react when Chuck pulled away from their kiss and gave him a pointed nudge.

"Bed."

It wasn't a question, but not quite an order either.

Raleigh stiffened all the same, because that felt like something he shouldn't agree to. He was trying _not_ to get involved. Then again, his hesitation made him feel like he might be blowing things out of proportion. Chuck wasn't asking to marry him — he just wanted them to relocate. And, judging by the choice of said location, more sex was in Raleigh's immediate future if he chose to concede.

Raleigh could prioritize.

"Sure," he replied, before leaning in for another kiss, just because he could. Kissing Chuck was surprisingly addicting and he might as well enjoy it while he could.

The kissing was made difficult when Chuck insisted on grinning, but the way he pushed Raleigh backwards made up for that — Raleigh knew they were heading for the bedroom.

Well, that and the mischievous glint in Chuck's eyes, which told Raleigh that he was going to spend the next few hours feeling anything but bored.

Getting into bed with Chuck had been easy, but getting _out_ was the complete opposite — especially if he wanted to pass unnoticed. Raleigh managed to slide to the edge of the bed, but froze when Chuck mumbled something indistinguishable in his sleep. Chuck settled down again a moment later, thankfully without waking.

Raleigh gave it a couple of seconds before he made another attempt to move, careful not to jostle the bed or pull on the haphazardly arranged sheets. Moonlight was filtering in through the gap in the thick curtains and while that wasn't much, it still offered enough light for Raleigh to find his scattered clothes.

Chuck continued to sleep and Raleigh told himself that he had no reason to feel guilty. They hadn't given each other any promises, and he had to leave sooner or later. The fact that he did so in the middle of the night while Chuck wasn't awake and could see him go, well, Raleigh felt it was best that way.

Max didn't seem to agree. The bulldog lifted his head from where it was pillowed against Chuck's feet, giving Raleigh a quiet, judging stare that made him feel bad enough that he had to look away. He was clearly out of balance if _a dog_ was able to give him a bad conscience. Max didn't bark or move enough to wake Chuck, though, for which Raleigh was grateful.

Making sure he had everything, Raleigh quietly slipped out the door and closed it as carefully as possible.

He told himself not to feel guilty. He told himself that he couldn't risk getting attached. He told himself that sneaking off before Chuck woke up was the best way to deal with whatever was growing inside Raleigh whenever he looked at Chuck. Those emotions weren't something he could — or even wanted — to explore.

He still felt like an ass — mostly because he _was_ one. But he could handle that.

It wasn't until Raleigh was back inside his room at the inn that he even realized that he had forgotten the books he was supposed to borrow. But that was probably for the best. He couldn't imagine that Chuck would want to deal with him again after the stunt he just pulled.

Raleigh tried to tell himself that the clench in his chest wasn't disappointment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's an asshole? Raleigh is! Like, _really_ , Raleigh? REALLY?
> 
> SO. Rollercoaster chapter! I do those sometimes. Also, I've more or less successfully written a sex scene with Chuck and Raleigh now! Yay! Sex scenes are... awkward, for me. I am amazed by people who write them like it's no big deal.
> 
> Next chapter is the domestic fluff chapter. So. Much. Fluff. Well, I mean, after Raleigh has been forced to face his cowardly actions at the end of this chapter. See you next Friday!


	4. Equilibrium

 

* * *

 

Raleigh hadn't expected to be ambushed the very next morning.

When he came down the stairs, heading for the breakfast served in the small dining room, Chuck was leaning against the inn's reception desk with a lazy smile on his lips. He was talking to Rhonda, who seemed absolutely delighted to be the sole recipient of Chuck's attention. Raleigh understood the feeling — being the focus of all that intensity was flattering.

Raleigh froze at the bottom of the stairs, caught between flight and fight, not really knowing which impulse to heed. He was usually geared towards fight, but Chuck didn't look hostile. Not even when he caught Raleigh's gaze did he seem as angry as he should have, considering how rudely Raleigh had left the night before.

"There you are," Chuck drawled. He gave Rhonda a smile — flashing his dimples in a way that had to be intentional — before pushing away from the reception desk. "I figured I would be able to catch you before I headed over to the clinic."

Raleigh stared, still not sure how to react. Chuck was carrying two books — the ones Raleigh had picked out last night, no doubt. Chuck's smile was innocent, but the look in his eyes was challenging. He must know why he had woken up alone that morning, but instead of getting angry he was up to something else.

Raleigh felt both confused and unsettled.

"I—" He didn't get any further before Chuck stepped close and pushed the books into Raleigh's fumbling hands.

"You forgot these last night," said Chuck. The words were firm, but also surprisingly playful.

Without warning Chuck leaned in and gave Raleigh a swift but pointed kiss. Raleigh was too stunned to even punch him for it. He just stood there with Chuck's books in his hands, staring at the challenging smirk on Chuck's lips. Then, without further ado, Chuck gave Raleigh a wink and turned to leave.

"Take care, Rhonda," Chuck tossed out over his shoulder, ignoring the stumped look on Raleigh's face. Or maybe he was enjoying it. Raleigh wasn't sure.

All he knew was that he was clearly in way over his head.

Raleigh managed to postpone confronting Chuck until lunchtime. By then, Raleigh was pissed off at how bewildered he felt. He had no idea what Chuck was up to. Anger would have been easy to handle, but the display of overly-familiar affection — in front of people, no less — was way beyond what Raleigh was equipped to handle.

He made an effort not to look like he was there to murder someone when he stepped inside the doctor's office and asked to see Dr. Hansen. Raleigh wasn't sure if he was just lucky or if Chuck rarely had visitors, but he was shown in without delay. He found Chuck seated at his desk, making notes in a medical journal.

"I figured you'd come by sooner or later," Chuck said without as much as a glance in Raleigh's direction. His tone was amused, but most of all condescending.

"What was that about?" Raleigh demanded, trying not to sound as frustrated as he was feeling.

Chuck made a show of finishing the sentence before he turned his chair around to face Raleigh.

"I could ask you the same thing," Chuck countered. His smile clashed with the cold look in his eyes. He wasn't as unaffected or at ease as his posture seemed to suggest, and Raleigh had learned his lesson when it came to blurting out insults just because he was upset. Chuck's temper shouldn't be taken lightly.

"I thought it would be obvious," Raleigh replied, trying — and failing — to shove the flare of guilt aside.

Chuck paused for a second, his expression carefully schooled. He was holding something back, but what exactly was difficult to tell. Raleigh forced himself not to flinch when Chuck got to his feet.

"Not really," said Chuck. "That was a very shitty thing you did. Cowardly, too." Chuck stopped just shy of too close, where Raleigh could easily reach out and touch him if he wanted to. "If you've got something to say, Raleigh, you better say it to my face."

That was exactly what Raleigh had tried to avoid. Sneaking out in the middle of the night was easy compared to flat out telling Chuck that they shouldn't see each other again. Raleigh wasn't even sure whose emotions he was trying to spare.

He took a deep breath, but made sure to meet Chuck's gaze — it was too late to back out now. Raleigh had known that in coming here, he might have to talk about him leaving.

"I don't like getting attached to people," Raleigh said.

Chuck shrugged. "I'm not asking you to."

"I know." Raleigh had never doubted that. Chuck was very relaxed about the whole thing — surprisingly so, in fact. Raleigh glanced down for a second. "But it still makes me uncomfortable."

Chuck paused for a second, before smiling crookedly.

"Yeah, can't blame you for that, I guess." He put his hands in the pockets of his white coat, and gave another nonchalant shrug. "But as far as I'm concerned, I wouldn't mind doing it again. Will you get attached? Fucked if I know. But what I _do_ know is that you'll be leaving soon anyway, so why not enjoy it while it lasts?"

Was there really a good argument against that kind of offer? The sex had been great — fantastic, even — and Chuck was still the most fascinating person Raleigh had met in years. Being with him was surprisingly easy, despite all the clashing emotions. It was _exciting_ , and Raleigh didn't actually want to stop.

If they were both on the same page, well, that made it a whole lot easier, didn't it?

Chuck held up a warning finger.

"But don't think you'll get to pull that disappearance shit on me again. That's strike one."

Raleigh couldn't help but grin.

"That means I still have two more to go," he pointed out. "You're not out until three strikes."

Chuck rolled his eyes and grabbed the collar of Raleigh's t-shirt, pulling him closer with a firm yank.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, you cheeky little shit," Chuck grumbled. Whatever reply Raleigh had intended to give got swallowed up by the ensuing kiss. Raleigh couldn't say that he minded.

Chuck was just as fierce as the night before, and Raleigh let himself get swept up by the intensity. The feel of Chuck's lips against his own set Raleigh's blood alight much faster than should have been possible, but he made no effort to fight it. Sometimes it was just so incredibly gratifying to be able to let go, if only for a couple of minutes.

Raleigh wasn't so far gone that he didn't notice when Chuck's hands moved lower, however, with a very clear goal in mind. He pulled back slightly and gave Chuck an incredulous look.

"Really? Here?"

Chuck's grin was a lot more charming than it had any real right to be.

"Do you care?" he challenged, his words nothing more than a whisper against Raleigh's lips. "Because I sure as hell don't."

Raleigh wasn't sure if what he let out was a chuckle or a scoff, but it was definitely amused.

"Fair enough."

This was Chuck's workplace, not Raleigh's. If Chuck didn't mind that Tammy was on the other side of the door, well, Raleigh wasn't going to argue. He wasn't nearly bashful enough to care about something like that. Not to mention that Raleigh's heart was already thrumming in his chest, wanting more — he wasn't sure when or how he was supposed to _stop_ wanting more.

"Fucking brilliant," Chuck hummed smugly, before claiming another kiss.

Raleigh responded in kind.

Raleigh didn't sleep at Chuck's that night either, but both of them were at least awake when he left. Chuck even offered a heated goodbye kiss on the front porch. He didn't seem insulted that Raleigh didn't want to stay — for which Raleigh was grateful. Saying that they were keeping their relationship casual was one thing, but following through was another.

It was better that way, since the following day was the one-week mark of Raleigh's forced vacation. He could be gone within a couple of hours, depending on when the spare parts for his bike arrived and how fast the mechanic worked.

When Raleigh went to ask — mostly because he didn't have much else to do while Chuck worked and didn't feel like reading for an entire day — Larry couldn't offer him any more information than last time. But he did allow Raleigh to stay at the garage and do some basic maintenance on his bike, just to keep him occupied.

Chuck was very unimpressed by the black oil smears on Raleigh's hands when he came over for dinner that evening — possibly because he had to be so careful about how clean his own hands were. Not that the stains stopped him from wanting kisses or sex. Or from pointing out that if Raleigh was so desperate for things to do, he could give Chuck's bike a once-over too.

Raleigh suspected that Chuck said that mostly to be snarky.

So Raleigh's response was to come over early the next morning — before Chuck left for work — and ask for the motorcycle keys and tools. Chuck was clearly trying not to smile as he handed them over, but the way he kissed Raleigh just before he left spoke its own language. The kiss was ruthless, as if Chuck was doing his absolute best to make Raleigh's brain go haywire, making him moan in the process.

Chuck's kisses should be illegal.

Raleigh had almost forgotten how to breathe by the time Chuck left, and it wasn't until an hour later that Raleigh even realized just how easily Chuck seemed to trust him. He had handed over not only the keys to his bike but a spare one to the house, just in case Raleigh needed something from inside. At the time it hadn't seemed strange, what with the practical benefits, but once Raleigh thought about it he couldn't help feeling a little uncomfortable. Were they really that close? Or was Chuck unnecessarily trusting?

Neither of the options seemed plausible, so Raleigh eventually chose to ignore his unease — if only for his own sanity's sake.

Max certainly appreciated Raleigh having a key, since he only had to spend a couple of minutes whining on the other side of the door before Raleigh caved and let him out into the carport. He fetched Max's leash — not really trusting that he would be able to keep him in check otherwise — and secured it so that Max was given room to explore. But most of the time he seemed content just lying there, watching Raleigh work.

Max made for surprisingly good company.

After a couple of hours the elderly woman from next door — Mrs. J, if Raleigh remembered correctly — came to take Max out for his walk. She looked alarmed to find Raleigh tinkering with Chuck's motorcycle, and Raleigh greeted her as politely as possible while being covered in grease and oil stains. It was probably a bad idea to get on the wrong side of Chuck's neighbors.

She seemed to relax when Raleigh smiled at her, so maybe Chuck had been on to something when he suggested Raleigh do that more often.

Mrs. J looked confused when Max didn't want to go with her, however. He just kept giving Raleigh pointed stares that were all too easy to interpret, though Raleigh wasn't sure what he had done to earn that level of loyalty. Then again, he had sneaked Max tasty treats the night before, and that was probably an oath of undying friendship to a dog.

Raleigh assured Mrs. J that he would see to Max, and while she seemed reluctant to leave — possibly distrusting Raleigh's capabilities — she had to give up eventually. Raleigh hadn't even known that a dog could look as smug as Max did in that moment. After a shake of his head, Raleigh wiped his hands and took Max for his walk.

It was far too comfortable to spend the first half of the day working on Chuck's bike, and the latter half reading on Chuck's couch with Max curled up at his feet. Raleigh didn't feel restless or anxious, and found himself completely ignoring the fact that he wasn't there to stay.

It was worryingly easy to forget.

Chuck eventually came home, and it didn't feel the least bit awkward to spend the rest of the evening there too. Raleigh still insisted on sleeping at the inn, though, and if Chuck thought that was silly he never said so.

Fact was, Raleigh was free to come and go as he wished, which made it even easier to forget that he was only there temporarily. He fit in surprisingly well with Chuck's schedule, and Max was always happy to spend his day with Raleigh — be it lounging on the couch or taking increasingly long walks the less Raleigh's ankle hurt.

Days passed like this.

Sometimes Raleigh showed up before Chuck went to work, other times afterwards. If it was the latter, he found a note on the kitchen table with Chuck's bold scrawl telling him what food he could eat and what chores needed to be done if he got bored. Raleigh didn't mind that Chuck utilized him as a mix between a handyman and an assistant. Raleigh ate his food, occasionally borrowed his shower, and pored over his books and movies. It only seemed fair that he give something back, since Raleigh could understand if Chuck didn't have time for household chores, what with his job.

Not to mention that Chuck was the one who cooked.

So Raleigh found himself fixing the porch railing, securing one of the drain pipes, and working more on Chuck's bike — taking occasional breaks to walk Max and wave to Mrs. J next door. It was disturbingly domestic, and most of the time Raleigh tried not to think about that, refusing to reflect on how comfortable he was getting.

Living in denial was just so much easier.

He and Chuck still had pretty heated arguments every now and then, and neither of them seemed to forget that Raleigh was just waiting for his bike to get fixed. But all in all, Raleigh was happy.

He hadn't used that word in years, and it was _shocking_ to realize how true it was now.

He was happy. He enjoyed taking Max for walks and spend the evenings with Chuck. He was even dragged along grocery shopping, which was an experience since Chuck refused to let the wide-eyed stares from the other patrons keep him from touching and kissing Raleigh. Chuck didn't care what other people thought of his and Raleigh's relationship, and wasn't going to hide it or behave differently in public.

Raleigh liked that. It made him feel less like an outsider when he could focus on Chuck being just the same as always, rather than the weird looks he got from the other townspeople. Fact was, Chuck's casual behavior meant that most people accepted Raleigh more and more. He was still different from them, but they began smiling and saying hi, and he responded in kind.

Little by little, without really knowing or noticing, Raleigh got settled. He wasn't supposed to. Sometimes he wondered what he fuck he was doing, but he only had to look at Chuck or Max for those thoughts to flicker out of his grasp. Raleigh didn't actually mourn them. He didn't want to be reminded of how this went against every single one of his rules about not getting attached or staying too long in one place. He just couldn't help it.

He wanted to stay.

"How did you survive this?"

Raleigh didn't have to look down to know what Chuck was referring to. He could feel the touch of fingertips against his skin.

They were lying in bed, Raleigh on his back while Chuck traced one of the round scars on Raleigh's chest — the one closest to his heart. Max was sprawled further down with his head pillowed on Raleigh's left foot and his body pinning one of Chuck's legs in place.

"I didn't," Raleigh replied softly, meeting Chuck's questioning gaze. "Not really."

Chuck caught on quickly.

"You coded?"

Raleigh nodded before looking down. Chuck was focusing on the bullet holes rather than the long surgical scar at the center of Raleigh's chest — it probably didn't surprise a doctor that Raleigh's injuries had required that kind of procedure. The bullets had struck Raleigh's left side, one of them closer to his shoulder, but it was clearly the other that had caught Chuck's interest. It was the same one that had caused the surgeons and doctors the most grief, when Raleigh had been rushed to the hospital.

Chuck had seen both scars before, since this was far from the first time they had gotten naked, but maybe the hushed stillness made him bold enough to ask. It was getting late and Raleigh should be thinking of going back to the inn, but he was far too comfortable tangled in the warm sheets, watching Chuck's skin glow in the light from the bedside lamp.

"I was dead long enough that I ran risk of permanent brain damage," Raleigh said, surprising himself with the admission.

The scars weren't something he talked about — but Chuck wasn't just some random stranger. What they had was complicated and definitely not as casual as either of them tried to pretend, so maybe it made sense for Raleigh to tell him more than he would ever tell anyone else.

Chuck's gaze was steady, without pity, which was one of the reasons that Raleigh didn't freeze up. There was a certain amount of concern, of course, but that was expected. He just didn't want Chuck to pity him.

"How did it happen?"

The silence that settled over the room was unmistakably tense for a couple of seconds, until Raleigh reminded himself that Chuck had told him about his own loss. But it wasn't guilt or a need to repay the favor that made him reply — he trusted Chuck to listen and not see him differently because of what Raleigh was about to reveal.

"I got mixed up with the wrong crowd." Raleigh smiled faintly at Chuck's raised eyebrow. He reached out and let his fingertips travel along Chuck's arm. "Before the whole biker gig, yeah. I was around twenty and—" He hesitated, taking a slow breath before continuing, "I wasn't looking for trouble, but I was too naïve to see that it had found me whether I wanted it to or not. My big brother, though, he could tell. He tried to talk me out of it. And when that didn't work, he tried to talk to _them_ about it."

Raleigh had to pause and swallow around the growing lump in his throat. He didn't talk about Yancy, mostly because of the guilt and shame, but even more so because he hadn't found anyone he thought deserved to know about him.

Until now.

"What was his name?" Chuck asked, his voice low but stable. He wasn't tiptoeing around the subject even if Chuck had to know that Yancy was dead, just by the tone of Raleigh's voice and the look on his face. If it was because Chuck had felt a similar kind of loss, or the state Raleigh was in — full of bottled-up anger, paranoia, and drifting from one town to the next — was difficult to tell. But it was a relief not having to explain it in detail.

Raleigh didn't want to relive the memories from that night if he could help it.

"Yancy." Raleigh licked his lips, staring up at the ceiling. "He was the only family I had left."

Chuck moved slowly, catching Raleigh's left hand, his thumb just shy of brushing against the scar on the inside of Raleigh's wrist.

"So that's why you did this?" Chuck was looking at Raleigh's face rather than his hand, but the tiny squeeze made it easy to tell what he was referring to.

"Yeah," Raleigh replied hoarsely. "About a year after. It just seemed like I had nothing left. I had no one to care for and no one who cared about me. If I'd had some kind of purpose, or even a stable job, I probably wouldn't have deteriorated the way I did, but losing Yancy just... it hit hard. Too hard."

The brief moment of silence wasn't awkward, strangely enough. It felt thoughtful, as if Chuck was taking the time to process the words before replying.

"I don't blame you."

Raleigh blinked in surprise, looking at Chuck. Raleigh knew that Chuck had his own problems, but he was also very proud and hated to admit being soft or weak. "Compassion" wasn't exactly the first word that came to mind when Raleigh thought of Chuck, despite his chosen profession.

Chuck met the surprise without so much as a flinch, his gaze calm and steady.

"I'm not happy you tried or pretend to understand it, but I don't blame you either. Loss and grief isn't pretty." Chuck said the words with a casual air, which could have been insulting if Raleigh hadn't known that was how Chuck handled a lot of things involving emotions. He didn't brush them aside exactly, but was more likely to treat vulnerability with firmness rather than gentleness.

Raleigh found himself smiling.

"You're a lot kinder than you pretend to be," he said, voice warmer and more fond than he had expected.

Chuck snorted before turning over onto his stomach, pressing against Raleigh's side. Max protested with a grumble, but seemed to find another position soon enough, settling down with a loud sigh.

"And you're a lot sappier than you pretend to be," Chuck retaliated, his smile teasing.

Raleigh let out a laugh, before moving close enough to press a kiss against Chuck's bare shoulder. Raleigh thought it was absolutely adorable that Chuck's shoulders were littered with tiny freckles.

"Good thing I'm charming enough to make it work," Raleigh replied cheekily.

Chuck rolled his eyes and hit Raleigh in the face with a pillow which, in all honesty, didn't make Raleigh laugh any less.

"You fucking dork." Chuck was clearly struggling not to burst out laughing himself, and Raleigh grinned, feeling surprisingly happy despite the conversation they had just had.

Yancy had been a taboo subject for so long that Raleigh had expected to freak out or break down the moment he finally mentioned him, but that obviously wasn't the case. It still hurt, sure, like a dull throb at the very centre of his chest, but he wasn't upset. Maybe because Chuck was a warm, grounding weight next to him, or because of the way Max sighed in his sleep and buried his face against Raleigh's good ankle.

Weirdly enough, he felt good. He felt lighter than he had in a long time, in fact, but wasn't prepared to acknowledge why just yet.

He settled for cupping a hand behind Chuck's head and leaning in for a kiss. There was no urgency this time, just a steady kind of familiarity that was both soothing and thrilling. Raleigh tried not to think about that. He also refused to acknowledge that he didn't return to the inn that night, and instead fell asleep tangled together with Chuck while Max snored at their feet.

Maybe Raleigh shouldn't have been surprised that it was the morning after — on the twelfth day of his stay in the town he _still_ didn't know the name of — that Larry called to let him know that the parts had arrived.

Waking up next to Chuck was new, but it didn't feel the least bit awkward. Maybe because Chuck didn't make a big deal out of it, and instead grumbled something about Raleigh not getting any breakfast unless he volunteered to take Max out for his morning walk. Despite the obvious attempt at blackmail Raleigh complied, and had the pleasure of being greeted by Chuck holding out a steaming coffee cup the moment he got back inside the door.

Raleigh accepted the coffee and moved in for a quick kiss, before taking a seat by the kitchen table. He did this without thinking, simply because it came so easily — it felt natural.

When they were finished with breakfast and Chuck was getting ready to leave for work, Raleigh's phone started vibrating. He hated being startled by the ringtone, so more often than not he kept it on silent.

He was too busy trying to sneak Max some food without Chuck noticing to check who was calling. Raleigh should have known, though, since there was only a select few who had his number. Raleigh wasn't quite prepared for what greeted him when he accepted the call.

"Good news, my friend, your bike will be finished today."

Raleigh froze, his breath caught in his throat.

"Today?" he croaked, not sure why he made it sound like something bad. This was what he had been waiting almost two weeks to hear. He was supposed to be ecstatic.

He wasn't.

Chuck paused. His back was turned, but Raleigh could still tell that it took Chuck a second to catch himself. When he moved to grab his things from the kitchen counter he looked tense. Chuck might only be listening to Raleigh's side of the conversation, but he had to know what it was about.

"Yeah, just come by later this afternoon," Larry continued. Raleigh's struggled to make his heart to stop beating so hard and loud. "Around three? Sounds good to you?"

Raleigh swallowed. Chuck wasn't looking at him. At first glance it didn't seem like he was avoiding Raleigh's gaze, but the stiffness of Chuck's shoulders hadn't been there a minute ago.

"Sure, sounds good," Raleigh replied automatically. He had no idea if his hesitation could be heard in his voice.

That didn't sound good at all. Raleigh wasn't sure if he _wanted_ his bike to get fixed, since it was the only thing keeping him in town.

Only that wasn't quite true anymore, was it?

"And don't worry about the cost. Cynthia has already been in."

It took a while for Raleigh to connect the dots. Cynthia was the soccer mom who had hit him. She had promised to pay for the repairs.

"Oh, that's great."

It wasn't. He didn't care about the money.

Raleigh was only distantly aware of Larry saying goodbye and himself hanging up. He was too busy trying to sort out his own battling emotions. When Chuck turned to face him, Raleigh was nowhere near prepared to deal with any of it.

Chuck was smiling, but it didn't look convincing.

"Well, I'm off," Chuck announced, as easily as if it had been any other day. As if nothing had changed. Raleigh was too baffled to do anything but stare when Chuck walked up to him. "You can put the spare key in the mailbox when you leave."

Those words were the only confirmation Raleigh got that Chuck knew what this meant — that Raleigh could finally leave.

That and the way Chuck kissed him. It was wrong to say that the kiss was desperate or sad, but it definitely lingered longer than some of the others had — as if Chuck couldn't bear the thought of pulling away.

As he if he didn't want it to end.

Chuck hesitated when he eased back, but it was so subtle that Raleigh almost missed it. Chuck swallowed quickly, while his eyes remained closed a fraction of a second longer than necessary, his hand light against the side of Raleigh's neck. It looked as if Chuck had to gather his composure before he dared to look at Raleigh again.

When he did he appeared calm, but his smile still wasn't right. The blazing confidence was gone, leaving Raleigh to face something that looked like a pale imitation of the Chuck he had come to know.

Something big and ugly lodged in Raleigh's throat when he realized that he had put that expression on Chuck's face.

"Take care, Raleigh," Chuck said. His voice was hushed, which clashed with Chuck's usually brash nature. The sweep of Chuck's thumb — a swift, gentle caress along Raleigh's neck — seemed to burn even after Chuck lowered his hand.

Without another word Chuck turned, either ignoring or not noticing how Raleigh reached out towards him. It was a reflex Raleigh couldn't explain, and he changed his mind and snatched his hand back a second later.

Raleigh didn't know what to say. The lump in his throat made it impossible to speak. He just stood there, watching Chuck leave without offering as much as a goodbye in return. The sound of the front door closing echoed in the house.

Raleigh had to remind himself to breathe.

Was that it?

Raleigh wasn't sure what he had expected, but it felt surreal that Chuck, bold and outspoken as he was, wouldn't say anything. Chuck seemed like the kind of person who would protest against Raleigh leaving, or at least offer a snarky remark about Raleigh driving without a helmet. But he did neither. He just left.

Then again, Raleigh hadn't given Chuck a whole lot of options, had he? They had agreed — on Raleigh's request — that it should remain casual. Chuck had done just that. He hadn't made any attempts to make Raleigh feel guilty for leaving or place demands, instead remaining respectful and admirably mature.

Raleigh knew that Chuck was too proud to beg, and would never allow himself to be seen as a burden. Of course he backed off. Chuck had done exactly what Raleigh had asked him to.

So why did it feel like this was the last thing Raleigh wanted?

Raleigh took a trembling breath while running his hands through his hair, jumping in surprise when Max whined. Raleigh looked down at the bulldog at his feet, feeling his chest constrict when Max tilted his head to the side — as if asking Raleigh what was wrong.

Was Raleigh supposed to leave now? Just walk out the door and let Mrs. J take Max for his walks, and not be there when Chuck came home from work? Could he really do that? And, if so, how the fuck was he supposed to do it without breaking his own heart in the process?

"I wasn't supposed to get attached," Raleigh mumbled helplessly, knowing that Max wouldn't understand. He was looking up at Raleigh, imploring and trusting, giving off a bark that seemed part enthusiasm, part confusion. As if he was trying to figure out what Raleigh was doing, standing there looking all forlorn, but wouldn't mind helping to fix it.

Max's input only made Raleigh feel even worse.

He spent the majority of the day staring into nothingness before taking Max for a walk that was long enough to traumatize the poor dog. Max curled up on his doggy bed as soon as they got back, shooting Raleigh vaguely suspicious looks, as if daring him to try that stunt again. Raleigh couldn't help but smile.

He stooped down and pressed a kiss to Max's wrinkly head before walking out the door. Raleigh locked up and placed the spare key in the mailbox like Chuck had instructed, but he didn't feel entirely aware of his actions. He was walking through a daze.

He stopped to look back at Chuck's house, trying not to think of the bulldog curled up inside, probably snoring to his heart's content. Or of the big, familiar bed Raleigh had spent a fair share of his hours in, but only ever slept in once. And all the books he had read and movies he had watched, all of them returned to their proper shelves.

Raleigh hadn't brought anything to Chuck's house that he didn't take with him when he left. There were no physical traces of him there, except perhaps a lingering imprint on one of the pillows, and his coffee cup in the dishwasher. That wasn't unusual. Raleigh isn't meant to leave anything behind or make any memories.

He had obviously failed spectacularly at the latter.

He wouldn't be able to forget this — not Chuck, his dog, or the stupidly quaint little town. For the first time since Yancy died, Raleigh wondered if he was making the right decision by refusing to settle down. He had found a place where he might not exactly fit in, but was content — safe. He hadn't actually felt the urge to leave in days, his restlessness and paranoia having melted away so smoothly that Raleigh hadn't even noticed.

Raleigh gathered up his things at the inn on autopilot. He hadn't been there to do more than sleep the last couple of days, but he had somehow gotten used to Rhonda and Paul's cheerful greetings and friendly smiles. He couldn't quite offer one back when he checked out.

They probably thought he was finally going to stop paying for a room he barely used and move his things to Chuck's house. It hadn't passed anyone by where Raleigh had spent his days and evenings — the town was far too small for that.

Raleigh couldn't bring himself to say goodbye. He told himself that he didn't care about Rhonda or Paul. They thought that they would see him again — around town somewhere, at the grocery store or on the streets — but in actuality, he was leaving for good.

Or at least that was the plan, wasn't it?

He should have felt happy when he stepped inside Larry's workshop and was presented with his bike, but he didn't. His heart was sinking, slowly but surely. Raleigh tried to smile as he thanked Larry for his hard work, but felt worse than he had when he woke up that morning.

That wasn't all that difficult, on the other hand, since he had woken up next to Chuck with a very cuddly bulldog headbutting his hand, begging to be petted. Few things could top that.

Never before had Raleigh been so reluctant to secure his meager belongings to his bike and push it out onto the street. Larry was waving and Raleigh swallowed harshly before waving back. He wondered if Larry thought that Raleigh was going to be heading straight over to Chuck's, just like Rhonda and Paul had. Did they think that was where he belonged?

Raleigh couldn't bring himself to get on his bike.

He just stood there on the curb, staring at nothing in particular. He had no idea what to do. It seemed wiser to leave — like he had ever since Yancy died and Raleigh lost the one firm point in his life — but he wasn't sure if he _wanted_ to. Usually, leaving was a necessity, but now the mere thought _hurt_.

That scared him. Raleigh had barely survived losing Yancy, and he couldn't go through that again. He didn't want any more scars, nightmares, or sleepless nights. No one could ask that of him.

But the thought of not seeing Chuck again made Raleigh's chest ache.

At first, he didn't even realize that he had pulled out his phone. He wasn't sure what he was thinking when he scrolled to find Chuck's number. Chuck had given it to him days ago, so that he would be able to call if anything happened to Max or the house while Chuck wasn't there.

Raleigh's heart was beating so loud that he could feel the echo of it in the tips of his fingers.

His hand shook when he raised the phone to his ear, his throat dry and thoughts tumbling over each other — some screaming for him to stop and others urging him on. The first ring got swallowed by the blood rushing in Raleigh's ears.

He had no idea what he was doing.

The call connected.

"Yeah?" Chuck sounded hesitant, as if he wasn't sure that the name on his phone display and the voice on the other end would match.

Chuck had Raleigh's number, but probably hadn't expected him to call. Raleigh could only name one time he had, to tell Chuck to buy some milk on the way home.

Raleigh's heart missed a beat, and the words he had been just one breath away from uttering died on his lips.

Home.

He didn't have a home — not since Yancy died. But this felt like one.

Chuck had given him a _home_.

Pain flared to life in Raleigh's chest, so bright and vivid that it almost made him recoil. He couldn't go through that again. He couldn't. He couldn't have something so precious, only to lose it again. He was better off not having it at all.

"Rals?"

Raleigh made a strangled noise at the back of his throat, barely managing to muffle it behind his hand. Chuck had never called him that before. That was what Yancy used to call him.

Chuck wasn't supposed to call him that.

The panic was growing, spreading through Raleigh's veins like poison. He could feel it taking over — feel himself succumb to the urge to flee, to run and never look back. He couldn't afford to get attached, only to lose it all again. He couldn't.

"Raleigh? Is everything—"

Raleigh hung up, gasping for breath while trying to blink away the sting of tears. He couldn't stay. He couldn't.

He had to leave.

Larry called out to him, but Raleigh couldn't hear what he said. He didn't respond either, just shoved his phone into his pocket and finally got on his bike. He couldn't stay. The dread was back, stronger than ever, and Raleigh just didn't know how to stop running. He couldn't stop.

His phone started vibrating before he had even had time to pull away from the curb, but he ignored it, too focused on getting the hell out of there. The streets were far too familiar when he rode towards the interstate, reminding him of how long he had lingered at this place.

He refused to look at the signs telling him what town he was leaving.

He didn't want to know.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't blame Raleigh for running away this time. As a person who's had more than her fair share of panic attacks, I think his reaction is quite understandable. Perhaps not the best solution to the problem, but definitely understandable.
> 
> So this chapter was mostly just domestic fluff — don't tell me you didn't enjoy the thought of Raleigh fixing things around Chuck's house — buuuuut some things still need to be resolved, obviously. But that's for next time ;)
> 
> Enjoy, my lovelies <3


	5. Home

 

* * *

 

Raleigh didn't stop until well after night had fallen. He took refuge at a moderately welcoming motel on the outskirts of some random town, and went outside only long enough to get food from the McDonald's down the street before locking himself inside his room.

He couldn't bring himself to look at his phone.

He always kept it on silent, but had been forced to turn off vibrate as well, when he had stopped for gas and something to eat hours earlier. Every time a call came in he was tempted to turn around. There had been a couple of texts, too, but Raleigh hadn't read them.

He knew he should have shut his phone off, for his own sake as well as Chuck's, but he hadn't been able to. Maybe deep down he took some kind of sick pleasure in knowing that Chuck was trying to reach him — that Raleigh was important enough for that — but he sincerely hoped that wasn't the case.

He didn't know why Chuck kept trying. Even someone as stubborn as Chuck should realize that Raleigh didn't want to answer. Then again, if Raleigh truly didn't want to be reached, he should have shut his phone off — but he hadn't.

Some part of him couldn't cut that final line of communication, no matter how one-sided it was.

Raleigh paced the small room, shoving his fingers through his hair while telling himself that he knew what he was doing. The lie felt like a bad taste at the back of his mouth.

Running had never been a problem before, but it wasn't the same when there was someone to leave behind. Raleigh hadn't had that in years, and the feeling was so unfamiliar that it left him reeling.

The urge to run was a reflex — one that usually made him feel better. Now it had the opposite effect. It was foolish not to acknowledge that the situation had changed, and that maybe the old solutions weren't the best any more. He couldn't act as if he didn't have a place where he was welcome — that was no longer true.

He was welcome at Chuck's.

The doc might not have said so out loud, but Raleigh wasn't an idiot. He had seen Chuck's reluctance. Even if he hadn't tried to stop him from going, Chuck had wanted Raleigh to stay.

Raleigh wasn't proud of leaving. Once he was at his motel room he had time to calm down and think things through, which meant that the doubts had started to trickle in. But he told himself that leaving was what he had planned all along — this was what he usually did. How long could it possibly take for him to forget about Chuck and Max?

Raleigh sighed and sank down on the bed. He already knew the answer to that — he knew himself.

He wouldn't forget them.

He couldn't possibly forget what they had given him, where no one else would have dared — or even tried. Chuck was prickly and arrogant, yes, but he was also caring underneath the rough exterior. He showed it in his own unique way, which only made him all the more endearing.

Raleigh wasn't sure if leaving had been the right choice. He had done so because of his own fears, not anything Chuck had done. Was it reasonable for Raleigh to be so afraid? He had learned his lesson not to get involved with dangerous people, and Chuck's lifestyle wasn't exactly high risk — odds were that Raleigh wouldn't lose him the same way he had lost Yancy.

The thought was still terrifying, but once the initial panic settled, Raleigh knew he had made a mistake. It had been a kneejerk reaction to hit the road as soon as he ran into a problem he couldn't solve with threats of violence, but that was far from the wisest decision he could have made — one he _shouldn't_ have made.

He wasn't even sure if calling it a problem was all that fair.

So what if Chuck's house felt like it could be his home? Chuck didn't seem reluctant to let this thing between them become something more permanent, no matter how they had insisted it was casual. Their relationship had been the worst attempt at casual Raleigh had ever seen. Being with Chuck had felt so good he couldn't say it was wrong. He had felt safe and at ease, which was rare enough that he should have known to treasure their time together.

Deep down Raleigh knew it wasn't too late. He could go back. If he started early enough in the morning, he would get there long before Chuck went to bed, which would hopefully be enough time to apologize and explain why he had left.

But Raleigh wasn't sure if he was prepared to do that. He wasn't sure if he wanted to grovel. He also knew, though, that the longer he waited, the less likely Chuck was to forgive him. Chuck could hold a grudge like no one else, and Raleigh didn't have more than a couple of days to decide.

He could postpone the decision until next morning, however. If he tried to get back on the road now, he would only end up crashing into a ditch. He needed sleep and some time to think. Maybe then he could make an informed decision on whether he was willing — or even ready — to attempt to settle down for the first time in ten years.

It was a terrifying thought, but Raleigh couldn't deny that Chuck was worth it. After everything Chuck had done for him, the least Raleigh could do was to think through his choices and be prepared to make the necessary changes.

If Chuck still wanted him, that was. Raleigh definitely wouldn't blame him if he didn't.

When Raleigh woke up he abandoned his usual routine and remained in bed, staring up at the ceiling while trying to sort out his thoughts. It didn't take long for him to realize he wasn't getting anywhere, and without really meaning to he glanced towards his phone, which was lying innocent and silent on the bedside table. In a sudden moment of determination — or masochism, perhaps — he reached out and picked it up. He would have to face the calls and texts sooner or later, and if he was getting ready to make a decision whether to head back or not, it was good to know what kind of mindset Chuck would be in.

Raleigh settled back against his pillow, then took a deep breath and unlocked the screen.

Eight missed calls and nine texts, all from Chuck.

Curiously enough, Chuck hadn't left any voicemails, but maybe that was just as well. They would probably have consisted mostly of shouted insults. Not that Raleigh could blame him — what Raleigh had done was beyond shitty.

Leaving was one thing — Chuck had obviously been prepared for that — but calling only to hang up without a word sent incredibly mixed messages. That only made things worse. Raleigh really should have thought that through.

Raleigh had called to ask if he could stay. That probably wouldn't be much of a consolation, though, because he hadn't managed to _say_ the words before freaking out. He had ended up leaving instead, refusing to respond to Chuck's attempts to reach him.

Raleigh decided to look at the text messages, feeling a lurch in his chest that was part anticipation, part dread.

_'Raleigh what's going on?'_

_'Are you okay?'_

Raleigh swallowed, making sure to keep his breaths calm as he continued to scroll downwards.

_'Pick up the fucking phone Raleigh'_

_'Pick up'_

There was less shouting than Raleigh had expected.

_'Why won't you pick up?'_

Raleigh froze. The dread he felt at finding out just how angry Chuck was with him mutated into something else entirely. Those words, simple as they may be, landed like a cold, heavy stone in Raleigh's gut. He could feel the shift as clearly as if he'd heard Chuck say them out loud.

That wasn't anger — it was growing desperation.

_'Larry said you left'_

_'I don't know why you called but pick up. Pick up Raleigh. I need you to pick up'_

Raleigh couldn't breathe. He sat up, the anxiety blossoming towards outright panic. It wasn't for his sake, though — not this time — because he understood where this was heading.

He knew what the last two texts would say before he read them.

_'I don't care why you left. I just need to know you're okay. Please tell me you're okay. That's all I ask. For fuck's sake Raleigh PICK UP THE PHONE'_

Raleigh placed his free hand over his mouth, as if to hold back the growing feeling of nausea. The final text had arrived almost two hours after the one previous, and it contained so much pleading and vulnerability that Raleigh wouldn't have thought it came from Chuck — if he hadn't known about his past.

_'Please be okay'_

"Shit!" Raleigh hissed, dropping his phone onto the sheets to run his hands through his hair.

Why hadn't he thought that far? Why hadn't he realized that by calling just before taking off without a word and refusing to pick up, he would make Chuck assume the worst? Of course he would. The guy had lost his _mother_ in a fucking _car accident_ and would carry the scars — both physical and emotional — for the rest of his life.

Raleigh should have thought of that. He should have realized that Chuck's refusal to stop calling was founded in more than anger. Chuck had begun to fear the worst when Raleigh didn't answer. He hadn't even declined the calls, which would at least have given Chuck signs of life, however indirectly.

No, they had all gone to voicemail, one after the other, without any signs of Raleigh intending — or being able — to answer.

Chuck was panicking, and rightly so.

Raleigh fumbled with his phone. He had to call back. If he had known about this, he wouldn't have refused to answer last night. It hadn't been his intention to put Chuck through this — Raleigh had just needed some space to find out what he wanted.

Chuck didn't answer.

Raleigh cursed and tried again, even as he knew how futile that would be. Chuck was either not near his phone or didn't want to answer. Raleigh didn't want to consider any other options.

He ended up with Chuck's recorded voice telling him to leave a message for a second time, and didn't even finish listening before he cut the call and climbed out of bed.

He had to go back. He couldn't leave things like this.

Sure, sooner or later Chuck would look at his phone, see Raleigh's number on the caller ID, and know he wasn't dead. But considering how much agony Raleigh had caused him, Chuck deserved an apology face-to-face. Possibly also to punch Raleigh's lights out, but that was secondary.

Raleigh was halfway through getting dressed before he even realized what he was about to do.

He had to be absolutely certain that this was what he wanted. This was probably his only chance at making things right — if Chuck even decided to forgive him.

Raleigh could choose not to. Chuck would be traumatized and angry, sure, but he would manage. In a way, it might be better not to prolong the suffering. Chuck would let go of Raleigh quicker if he just stayed out of Chuck's business.

But it was already too late for that, wasn't it? And Raleigh didn't actually _want_ to leave. He never had. He had felt that it was _necessary_ , but that was a different thing entirely.

He took a slow, calming breath, trying to force his thundering heart to settle.

He wanted to go back. He wanted to apologize and make sure that Chuck was okay, but more than that, he wanted to stay. That was the most important part — the thing that could make and break it all. He couldn't go back only to leave again in a week. Chuck would never forgive him.

If Raleigh went back, he better be prepared to stay.

Raleigh allowed the thought to settle, not rushing the decision. He felt vaguely stupid, just standing there in the middle of his motel room, jacket tossed on the unmade bed and t-shirt in his hand — but he had to know. He had to be _sure_ that he was capable and willing to follow through.

No more running. No more drifting from one place to another. No more curbed anger and lingering grief. No more excuses.

Raleigh closed his eyes, listening to the thrum of his heart. It didn't sound any different than usual, but he felt different. Things had changed. Chuck had changed him. For better or worse, well, that remained to be seen.

Raleigh wasn't sure if he was still welcome, but he had to try.

The decision wasn't all that difficult once he stripped it down to its core, ignoring all the unfounded fears and rules he had carried for the past years. When he forced himself to see beyond that and acknowledge what his heart was trying to tell him, it was easy.

Terrifyingly, mind-numbingly easy.

He had to go back.

Raleigh was so focused on getting to Chuck's house that he didn't take note of the name of the town when he pulled off the interstate. Returning felt surreal. He knew that he had only been away for a little more than a day, but it seemed much longer — possibly because his mindset was so different.

The houses were still quaint and disturbingly perfect, but familiar rather than foreign. Most people were at home, eating dinner or whatnot, their windows bright rectangles of light in the darkening night.

Raleigh wasn't ashamed to admit he was nervous when he pulled up in front of Chuck's house. He had debated going to the inn first, to get himself a room and leave his things, but he realized that if Chuck refused to forgive him, Raleigh wouldn't want to stay in town.

He had tried to call one more time during the day, when he was already on his way back and had been forced to stop and eat. Chuck hadn't answered then either, which confirmed that he was in all likelihood refusing. Either that or he had lost his phone, but Raleigh suspected that wasn't the case. Chuck had to be livid, his anger only made worse by the fear and worry he might be still carrying around.

Raleigh barely had time to get off his bike before the front door opened and Chuck stepped onto the porch. Raleigh's stomach clenched, but he still made sure to calmly secure his bike before he turned to face Chuck.

The steps leading up to the porch weren't many, but Raleigh's feet felt heavy and unsure all the same. Chuck didn't look angry. His hands were clenched tightly into fists, but his face was eerily blank.

"Chuck—"

"What do you want?" Chuck interrupted. He stared down at Raleigh with cold eyes. Raleigh swallowed, but he couldn't exactly say that he didn't understand why Chuck was being hostile.

Raleigh stopped at the foot of the stairs. Just four steps and he would be on the porch with Chuck, but Raleigh knew he couldn't climb them without permission. Chuck was coiled tight, his shoulders tense, and that alone was a warning not to make any assumptions about his welcome.

"I came to apologize," Raleigh said eventually, startled by how cautious he sounded.

He was usually more confident than this. Raleigh didn't like to grovel, but when the situation was so obviously his fault, he knew he had to. He wouldn't even feel embarrassed about it.

He had fucked up and Chuck deserved an apology.

There was a slight crack in Chuck's carefully maintained mask, but he didn't let it slip too far.

"Fuck off, Raleigh."

The words hit harder than Raleigh thought they would. Still, he forced himself to breathe through the sting of hurt — he had no right to feel insulted — before meeting Chuck's gaze.

"I'm sorry." Raleigh placed his hand on the railing, but didn't make any move to climb the first step. "I should have picked up."

The crack grew bigger, Chuck's jaw tensing. He didn't reply, though, instead crossing his arms over his chest, his shoulders rising ever so slightly. There was a scratching noise on the other side of the closed door, followed by a helpless little whine.

"Cut it out, Max!" Chuck barked, in a tone sharper than Raleigh had ever heard him direct towards Max. That said quite a lot about how upset Chuck really was.

"Chuck, I'm really sor—"

"I told you to fuck off, didn't I?" The anger turned towards Raleigh instead — where it rightfully belonged, considering that he was the cause. Max hadn't done anything to deserve getting shouted at.

Raleigh knew that he was balancing on a very dangerous edge, but he had to try. Chuck was furious, but there was always more to it than that. Chuck was one of those people who hid everything behind anger, especially when he felt vulnerable.

"I'm sorry I didn't pick up." Raleigh caught and held Chuck's gaze, despite the seething rage he saw there. "I should have picked up."

"Yeah, you fucking should have," Chuck snapped, the last remnants of his carefully schooled calm crumbling. Raleigh wasn't ashamed to admit that it scared him. Chuck was explosive when angry, and Raleigh wasn't entirely sure what would happen now that he had earned the full brunt of Chuck's ire — and would have to face it head on.

"I didn't realize—"

He didn't get any further before Chuck interrupted him.

"What? That it would scare the ever loving fuck out of me when you didn't pick up your bloody phone? I didn't know if that call came before or after you left! I had no idea if that was you trying to call for help or just playing some sick prank!" The vehemence in Chuck's voice wasn't unexpected, but what he said certainly was.

"I wouldn't do that!" Raleigh felt a flare of indignation. Did Chuck really think he would sink that low? That he was inconsiderate enough to do something so hurtful?

Raleigh didn't even notice as he climbed the first step, subconsciously trying to get closer, as if that would add more weight to his argument.

"I freaked out and hung up, but I didn't do it to hurt you," he said as earnestly as he could, but he wasn't sure if it made any difference to Chuck.

"Then why not answer all the other times I called?"

"You didn't answer mine either," Raleigh pointed out. He knew it was the wrong thing to say when he saw how Chuck's expression shuttered closed.

"Fuck you, Raleigh. Seriously, just _fuck you_." There was a small crack in Chuck's voice that broke Raleigh's heart.

He reached out when Chuck turned to head back inside.

"No, wait, I—"

" _What_?" Chuck whirled around so fast that Raleigh recoiled, stumbling when he had to take a step back. He had forgotten that he was standing on the first step of the stairs. "I don't owe you an explanation! I don't owe you _anything_. You left! You didn't answer when I called! I had no idea if you were lying dead in a ditch or just ignoring me! Do you have any idea what that felt like?"

Raleigh shook his head, staring at his feet rather than meeting Chuck's gaze. Raleigh couldn't imagine what Chuck had gone through last night. There was no use pretending that he did.

"I'm sorry," Raleigh whispered, not knowing what else to say.

"Oh, so that's supposed to magically fix it?" Chuck spat, making a wide sweep with his arm.

Raleigh looked up.

"No, I know it won't, but it's a start." He braved the first step again. "Chuck, I'm really sorry."

"You've said that already."

"And it bears repeating," Raleigh said sincerely. "I fucked up. I know I did. And I'm sorry." He swallowed, knowing that the next couple of words wouldn't come easy, but that they would be worth saying. Not only because they were true, but because Raleigh wanted Chuck to know how serious he was. "I'm begging you, Chuck. Literally begging you. Just listen for a second."

It would be wrong to say that Chuck relaxed, but he stilled, staring down at Raleigh with an unreadable look on his face. He didn't nod or speak, but Raleigh decided to take the lack of hissed insults as permission to go ahead.

"I called to ask if I could stay."

_That_ definitely took Chuck by surprise. His shoulders stiffened and raised slightly, but the reaction seemed defensive rather than angry.

"Why didn't you?" Chuck was clearly trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible, but it didn't quite work. There was an edge of accusation — and a subtle undercurrent of disbelief.

"I freaked." Raleigh took another step, his hand resting on the smooth wooden railing. "We both know I have trust and commitment issues. You figured that out long ago. I couldn't even get the words out before I—"

Raleigh wasn't entirely sure how to finish the sentence, but it came out horribly wrong when Chuck did it for him.

"Regretted it?" Chuck was back to sounding bitter.

"No!" Raleigh felt the sting of panic. He was gaining ground — he could tell he was — but if Chuck started shouting again he might not get another chance to explain. Mrs. J was probably inches from calling the cops, considering all the noise Raleigh and Chuck were making.

In his desperation, Raleigh blurted out the one thing that might give him some purchase.

"You called me _Rals_. That's what Yancy used to call me." Raleigh swallowed down the flicker of grief that would always be there when he thought of Yancy. "It scared the hell out of me, Chuck. I'm not proud of that, but it did."

Chuck didn't uncoil exactly, but his posture softened.

"Then you should have told me, you idiot." He sounded tired rather than insulted, but Raleigh wasn't entirely sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

"I know," Raleigh agreed. "I know that now. I didn't stop to think what it would sound like to you, when I hung up like that."

Chuck let out a weary sigh. "You're a fucking disaster, you know that, right?"

Raleigh nodded. "I know."

"And you're a fucking dick," Chuck pointed out, but his anger seemed to be subsiding.

"Yeah, I am." No use arguing against something Raleigh knew was true. He moved forward, stopping on the final step and looking up at Chuck, trying not to seem too desperate — even if he was exactly that.

"I'm still mad at you." It was part threat and part defeat, as if Chuck knew that he was going to give in sooner or later — most likely sooner.

Raleigh nodded. "You have every right to be."

Chuck swallowed and rubbed a hand over his eyes, his shoulders slumping.

"Fuck it, Raleigh, you scared the hell out of me..." He sounded so small and frightened. Raleigh briefly hesitated before stepping up onto the porch, reaching out to pull Chuck closer.

"I know. I'm sorry," said Raleigh.

Chuck made a half-hearted attempt at refusing the hug, before he seemed to think better of it and slumped against Raleigh instead. His forehead came to rest against Raleigh's shoulder, and while he was unmistakably tense he was still pressing close, as if he needed the warmth. Raleigh didn't say anything, choosing instead to wrap his arms around him.

It didn't come naturally for Raleigh to hug people — not any more — but he would definitely give it a try for Chuck's sake.

"I'm so sorry," Raleigh whispered, voice soft and gentle, now that he was fairly certain that it wouldn't be met with anger. He could feel Chuck shiver, and hugged him tighter. "I'm sorry I scared you."

Chuck didn't reply. He gripped Raleigh's jacket, though, holding on with strong hands. That was better than nothing, and Raleigh allowed himself to relax. He knew he wasn't entirely forgiven yet — he wasn't that stupid — but this was a step in the right direction. Chuck seemed to be calming down and, more importantly, wasn't panicking.

Seconds passed — maybe even minutes — where Raleigh focused on nothing but the rhythm of Chuck's breathing and the distant, barely discernible beat of his heart. Raleigh's hand was splayed over Chuck's back, feeling the warmth of him through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

"You're sleeping on the couch tonight," Chuck mumbled sullenly against Raleigh's shoulder, making Raleigh laugh.

"You have a guest room," he pointed out.

"I do. But you're sleeping on the couch."

Chuck was clearly making a statement. He didn't deny Raleigh a bed because of logistical reasons, but because he wasn't quite ready to forgive him yet. Raleigh let out a slow breath before nodding.

"Okay. I'll sleep on the couch."

That was more than he had dared hope for anyway.

"And you better suck up to Max. He missed you."

There was no doubt in Raleigh's mind that Chuck was projecting, more or less knowingly. He seemed to find it easier that way, since it left him feeling less vulnerable. So Raleigh smiled, his fingers wandering through the hair at Chuck's nape.

"I missed him too."

Chuck's only response was to let out a snort, but it sounded fond.

The breakfast the following morning was decidedly awkward, just like the previous night. Neither of them had seemed to want to talk, which had meant that they ended up tiptoeing around sore subject — and consequentially each other — until Chuck had had enough and locked himself into his room to read or sulk, Raleigh wasn't sure which.

It had been difficult to fall asleep. The couch was comfortable enough, but Raleigh's thoughts had been spinning, keeping him awake for hours longer than necessary. Even if Chuck had let Raleigh back inside the house, there was still a lot unsaid between them. Raleigh knew that he would have to bring the conversation up again, to explain once and for all that he wanted to stay. He wasn't sure Chuck had understood that he genuinely meant it, unrelated to the guilt and shame he felt.

Raleigh hadn't said that he wanted to stay just to make Chuck forgive him.

Waking up to Max gleefully licking his face was surprisingly endearing, despite the excessive amount of drool involved. It was nice to know that Max still liked him, and Raleigh took the time to give him a belly rub to show his gratitude.

Chuck was already busy in the kitchen by the time Raleigh got up. Raleigh ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame the ruffled mess, but judging by Chuck's amused snort he wasn't very successful.

"Get a haircut," Chuck drawled as he moved from the humming coffee machine to prepare the rest of their breakfast.

Raleigh decided not to respond.

"Day off?" he asked instead, mindful of staying out of Chuck's way as he moved around the kitchen. It left Raleigh standing there like a fool, but he'd rather do that than accidentally start a fight first thing in the morning.

"Yeah," Chuck replied, throwing Raleigh a quick glance. "Sit down, you idiot."

Raleigh rolled his eyes but did as told.

"How does that even work? You're the only doctor in town, right?" Raleigh reached down to scratch Max's head when he bumped into his shin. It was a well-honed reflex by then.

"If there's an emergency they can call, but if not they'll have to wait until tomorrow." The words would have sounded harsh, if not for Chuck's tone.

The reply left Raleigh with few openings to continue, so he let silence settle over the room until breakfast was ready and Chuck took a seat opposite him. Raleigh felt vaguely guilty for not having helped, but Chuck didn't seem to care.

Raleigh looked down into his coffee, wondering where to begin.

"Spit it out, _Rah_ leigh."

Trust Chuck to want to tackle the uncomfortable tension head-on. Raleigh chuckled, before looking up with a crooked smile on his lips.

"I was just thinking that I still have a couple of things I want to say."

Chuck gave him a deadpan look.

"Yeah, I got that, princess. Now spit it out." Chuck seemed intent on his breakfast, but Raleigh could see the tension in his shoulders. It was safe to say that Chuck wasn't nearly as casual or relaxed as he pretended to be.

"I want to stay."

Chuck paused, food halfway to his mouth. The room was entirely still for a second, before Chuck carefully lowered his bagel and looked across the table, meeting Raleigh's gaze. His own was guarded.

"Why?"

"I'm tired of running," Raleigh replied, thumb absently rubbing along the handle of his mug. "I like it here. I like you. I like Max. I like feeling safe."

The words felt thick on his tongue, but he knew he had to speak them. He _wanted_ to speak them. The look on Chuck's face was thoughtful.

"And why the hell should I let you? That stunt you pulled doesn't exactly prove how trustworthy you are."

Raleigh grimaced.

"I know, okay? And promising not to do it again won't make a difference." He exhaled slowly, looking at Chuck. His hair glowed brighter — almost ginger — in the morning light. "But I mean it. I want to stay, and if you let me, I won't take it for granted."

Chuck leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Raleigh couldn't say if he did so to be stubborn, or because he was thinking. He decided to take a chance.

"I still have one strike left."

The look on Chuck's face was pure confusion, until he caught on and scoffed.

"You have a lot of nerve." He didn't seem angry, though.

"I know." Raleigh smiled tentatively. "I've left twice and I know that if I do it again, I won't get to come back. I wouldn't deserve it. But I want to stay, Chuck, I really do."

Chuck kept his expression blank, coolly observing Raleigh from across the table. Raleigh met his gaze without hesitation. The silent staring wasn't a challenge or a competition this time, but Raleigh was afraid that looking away would make it seem like he was less sincere.

"Pleading doesn't suit you," was what Chuck eventually said, arms still crossed over his chest, but his posture was looser now — more relaxed. "You're pathetic enough as it is."

Raleigh snorted, shaking his head at Chuck's fond insult.

"Okay, let me put it like this then." Raleigh spread his hands, grinning impishly. "The sex is great, your dog adores me, and I'm probably one of the few people who would put up with your anger management issues and foul mouth. I also know how to fix your bike, your house, _and_ where to find that little weak spot of yours that makes you moan lik—"

"Alright! Alright, you dork." Chuck shook his head, leaning forward to brace his elbows against the table. His smile was wide enough to show off his dimples. "You're saying that we're both assholes and clearly deserve each other?"

Raleigh grinned.

"Pretty much, yeah."

Chuck's laugh was surprisingly soft — as was the look he gave Raleigh.

"Well, there are worse reasons," Chuck said. "Better too. But definitely worse ones."

And for the first time in days, Raleigh felt that he could relax. This would take some work, but things would be okay. He knew they would be. There might be a couple of days — or weeks — where they would be more careful around each other than usual, but as soon as both of them realized that Raleigh was there to stay, it would probably get a lot easier.

"Also, you're still sleeping on the couch." Chuck's expression was smug. "For a _week_."

Raleigh narrowed his eyes. "Three days."

"Six," Chuck countered, rising to the challenge without missing a beat.

"Four."

Chuck pursed his lips. "Five."

"Max would miss me too much," Raleigh argued, smiling cheekily.

Chuck rolled his eyes, but was obviously trying his damnedest not to smile too.

"Fine. Four," he relented, sounding far more suffering than his expression would suggest.

Raleigh was gracious enough not to gloat. He knew there was still some way to go before Chuck forgave him, but they were moving in the right direction. Right now, that was all Raleigh could ask for.

Well, that and Chuck's warm, fond smile that made Raleigh want to kiss his dimples. He'd make sure to do just that, at his earliest convenience.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. Does this make you feel better? I know Raleigh got several of you pretty worried and upset, but I promise he didn't mean to! He IS a good guy, but trauma makes you react in really bad ways — which Chuck knows, luckily enough. I really quite like this chapter, because I got to explore some of Chuck's issues as well.
> 
> There's still the epilogue left, and you'll get that on Sunday at the latest. I highly recommend you stick around for it, since it has Mako! We all need more Mako, right? Raleigh definitely needs more Mako. There will also be a... well, epilogue of the epilogue that will be posted sometime in the future, but it will be it's own work, due to changes in the tags etc. So this is now a series, yes. Shit happens, and all that.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the conclusion! Take care, my lovelies! <3


	6. Epilogue

 

* * *

 

"It's actually kind of adorable how nervous you are," Chuck remarked, looking far too delighted.

Raleigh shot him a nasty look. "Fuck you."

"Not until tonight," Chuck admonished, pushing off from the doorframe to walk over to where Raleigh was sitting on the couch.

Well, _barely_ sitting on the couch. He was just a little too uneasy to lean back and settle down as comfortably as he usually would. Fact was that he _was_ nervous, and it only made him more frustrated to have it pointed out to him.

"She's not going to eat you." Chuck threw himself down next to Raleigh, a teasing smile on his lips.

Raleigh rolled his eyes.

"I know that."

But he also knew that Mako might be competent enough to spot all of Raleigh's flaws in a matter of minutes. It unnerved him, not only because he disliked being scrutinized, but because she had enough influence over Chuck to maybe convince him that having Raleigh around wasn't such a good idea after all.

He wasn't normally prone to this kind of insecurity, but he couldn't be blamed for feeling inadequate right now. He knew that he was far from a perfect member of society, even if the townspeople had more or less accepted him by then — but that was mostly Chuck's doing. Raleigh was still an outsider in many aspects.

He wasn't sure what Mako would make of him.

Chuck gave Raleigh a thoughtful look.

"You're more afraid of her than you would be of my old man, aren't you?" There was a vague tone of accusation in there somewhere, but also something that could only be described as amusement.

Raleigh refused to answer.

Chuck was right, though. Sure, Raleigh wasn't exactly eager to meet Chuck's dad either, considering what he knew about the man, but Chuck wouldn't care all that much if his dad disapproved. He'd probably even _enjoy it_ , in his own juvenile way. But it was obvious that Chuck considered Mako to be someone whose advice was worth listening to. Her opinion mattered to Chuck, in a way that made Raleigh nervous.

Chuck sighed and gestured for Raleigh to turn. "Look at me."

Raleigh obeyed without thinking. He had been living with Chuck for little over a month by then, and it felt natural to go along with his suggestions. Raleigh hadn't been keen on complying with other people's requests while on the road, but he had no reason to argue with Chuck on such small matters. He trusted Chuck.

Raleigh forgot all about that when Chuck reached out with both hands and pulled him in for a kiss. His fingers wandered through Raleigh's hair — finally cut short, because Chuck was persuasive like that — until they were cradling the back of his head.

The kiss itself was less gentle.

Chuck always kissed like he meant it, but they were never violent — just intense and toe-curling, in a way that was more than a little addicting. Raleigh welcomed the kiss, needing the distraction it offered — which had probably been Chuck's intention.

That didn't make the kiss any less amazing.

It was deep and slow, bordering on filthy, and Raleigh would have moaned if he hadn't been too preoccupied chasing after Chuck's tongue with his own.

He would never tire of this. He loved the moments when he could indulge and treasure everything that Chuck was. Like lazy mornings tracing nonsensical patterns on his freckled shoulders, following the small, adorable dots one after the other. Or when Chuck would come home from work and plant himself on the couch with his head in Raleigh's lap, so that Raleigh would run his fingers through Chuck's hair until he stopped grumbling about needy patients. Or just being able to smile smugly in the mornings when Chuck wasn't entirely awake enough to appreciate Raleigh's enthusiasm, and he ended up growling insults under his breath until Raleigh gave him his coffee.

Kissing him was very much the same — Raleigh couldn't get enough of it. He wanted it all, and he wanted it often.

Luckily enough for him, Chuck was always happy to oblige.

Less than a minute ago Raleigh would have jumped at the sound of the doorbell, knowing who would be on the other side, but now he was too distracted by the kiss. He heard it, of course — as well as Max's ecstatic bark and the click of his claws as he raced towards the front door — but Raleigh took the time to smoothly finish the kiss, rather than interrupt it.

Chuck was smiling once Raleigh pulled back. His expression was amused but also, deep down — if you knew where to look — full of fondness.

"Better?" Chuck asked, ignoring Max's barks and whines. He didn't seem concerned that he left Mako waiting, all of his focus on Raleigh.

That was, as always, a humbling experience.

"Yeah." Raleigh nodded and leaned in for one last quick kiss before he got up from the couch.

Chuck followed suit.

"You're going to love her, don't worry," Chuck said as he started walking towards the door. But then he seemed to think better of it, stopped, and turned to face Raleigh again. "But if you leave me for her I'll be forced to kill you. Or send my dad to kill you."

Raleigh almost burst out laughing, until he realized that a part of Chuck was being serious. Maybe Raleigh wasn't the only one feeling inadequate from time to time.

He smiled and gave Chuck another quick peck.

"I promise I won't leave you for Mako."

Chuck nodded firmly.

"Good." He headed for the front door. "I really think you'll like her. Or, more correctly: I think you could benefit from knowing someone like her."

Judging by the advice Mako had given Chuck over the years, Raleigh was inclined to agree. She seemed like a good, dependable friend. The kind Raleigh hadn't had, ever since Yancy died.

So in a way he wasn't surprised to find that he felt his heart give an excited little skip when Chuck opened the door and Raleigh was met by Mako's soft, kind smile. It was surprisingly reminiscent of the skip he felt when Chuck laughed — something warm, comforting, and _safe_.

Max was barking happily, bumping into their legs in his haste to say hello to everyone. Mako gave the dog a fond smile before moving to hug Chuck. Despite being much smaller than both of them, Raleigh noticed that there was nothing delicate about her — she didn't disappear into Chuck's embrace when he wrapped his arms around her. There was a kind of gentleness to her, but it had nothing to do with insecurity, and everything to do with confidence — and what Raleigh might have to label as genuine kindness.

That was something so rare for him that she shone all the brighter for it.

"Mako, I'd like for you to meet this dork of mine, also known as Raleigh." Chuck stepped back, gesturing between the two. "Raleigh, this is Mako."

Raleigh shot him an unimpressed look, while Mako fought a smile. She politely held out her hand, her expression warm and welcoming. Raleigh could tell that she was cataloguing his various traits, but it didn't feel as threatening as he had feared — maybe because of her smile.

Or maybe it was because he looked less like a criminal than he used to. The bigger wardrobe helped, not to mention opportunities to shower more often. And if anyone asked he could reply that he had a job now, helping Larry at the workshop four days a week. Raleigh had even succumbed to Chuck's nagging to cut his hair, and now shaved fairly regularly.

"Nice to meet you, Mako."

Her handshake was confident, just like Raleigh had expected.

"Nice to meet you too, Raleigh."

He held her gaze for a second or two, his anxiousness settling at the open, kind look on her face. She was there to get to know him, not to judge him, and Raleigh felt the stiffness in his shoulders ease. Max was still barking excitedly and when Mako bent down to greet the dog properly, Raleigh found himself looking at Chuck.

There was an affectionate smile on Chuck's lips, and Raleigh had to remind himself to breathe. It was then, in that exact moment, that Raleigh was certain he had made the right decision. Staying had been the right choice. Agreeing to meet Mako had been the right choice.

All of it felt so right.

For the first time in years, Raleigh had a real home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was the fluffy epilogue! I had a blast writing this story and I hope you enjoyed it as well. Exploring this kind of role reversal was incredibly fun.
> 
> Thank you to [Morozovasraven](http://morozovasraven.tumblr.com/) who gave me the idea for the story (although in reverse) and thank you to my awesome betas [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) and [surgicalstainless](http://archiveofourown.org/users/surgicalstainless). The latter requested a continuation of the story, where I explore the hints of Chuck/Raleigh/Mako that might have sneaked its way into the epilogue, so at some point in the future I'll post that. It's just a short one shot and highly optional for those of you who don't like that pairing, but for those of you who do? Well, you're getting it ;)
> 
> You can also find me on [Tumblr](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com). I have two Chaleigh one shots to upload here on AO3, and that will hopefully happen within the next month or so. Until then, my lovelies!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Calling from The East](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5992726) by [Gothams_Only_Wolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gothams_Only_Wolf/pseuds/Gothams_Only_Wolf)




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